


In Search of Dragons

by apollonious



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: ... But There's Dragons, ... or at least first contact in a while, Boats and Ships, F/M, First Contact, Head Injury, Loss of Parent(s), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, POV Astrid Hofferson, Slow Burn, saturday is dragon day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollonious/pseuds/apollonious
Summary: The day Astrid met Hiccup, she saw something that would change her life forever.Now, almost a decade later, he's come back.And she has a choice to make.
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 151
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

The house had been empty for months.

Since the elderly widow had died, late last winter, and her family had come to lay her to rest and then left once more, nobody had seen anyone enter or leave. It sat on a cliff overlooking the crashing gray-blue waves of the sea far below, desolate and lonely as the weeks wore on. There had been some talk around the town that the family was planning on selling the house, or possibly splitting it up into apartments. But no buyer had materialized; nor had any tenants.

The house had stayed empty, alone and deserted on its cliff a mile out of town.

Until now.

Astrid had first seen the car, a thoroughly sensible black sedan, parked out front on the gravel driveway, on her drive home from work. She’d been so surprised at the sight that she’d stared as she drove past, and it was because of this that she saw a young man come out the front door of the house and get in the car. He waved at her, though she knew he couldn’t see her face from this distance; the driveway was a good quarter-mile long. Perhaps he was anticipating some gawking and figured that was what she was doing. He wasn’t wrong, of course, and it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. Though she didn’t say anything—who would she say anything to?—gossip erupted all over town, from Phlegma at the diner swearing to anyone who would listen that he was handsome enough to be in the movies, to Heather, at the hardware store, who didn’t mention his looks but did say he was pretty polite when he came in to buy supplies. 

He’d been here for two weeks, and she still hadn’t gotten a good look at him. 

And naturally, she was burning to find out what was going on. 

He'd never stayed the night at the house before, but one morning as she was on her way to work, Astrid realized he hadn’t left the night before. Normally, he arrived about the same time Astrid drove past on her way to work, and had left by the time she drove past on her way home. 

But now his car was still there, unmoved from where it had been the previous evening. 

Astrid told herself that she’d drop by on her way home if the car was still there. Just to be neighborly. It wasn’t that she was curious—no, of course not.

Just being friendly.

She was a touch preoccupied when she got to the small regional aquarium where she worked, but fortunately there weren’t many people around to notice this. It was mostly a research facility, though people did sometimes visit to see the animals that were being rehabilitated there. A large part of Astrid’s job was feeding the residents and taking water samples to ensure their living conditions remained healthy—not something she needed her full attention for. That day, her manager, Eret, was the only other human around, and he paid her distraction even less mind than the seals did.

At first, when she came around the turn that brought the house into view, she didn’t see the car. There was a strange sinking feeling in her stomach—disappointment?—as she figured he’d probably left for the day.

But no—it was there. He’d just moved it, no doubt when he went into town for something or other. It just hadn’t been where she was expecting to see it. 

Suddenly nervous, Astrid thought about abandoning her mission and just going home. She gritted her teeth, trying to psych herself up—she’d decided she was going to do this, and she would. 

She signaled and turned onto the driveway. Gravel crunched under the tires of her truck as she slowly made her way up toward the house.

The man came around the side of the house as she approached. He was tall and slim, with a mane of tousled, shaggy auburn hair. He wore jeans and a white t-shirt that looked like it didn’t even remember the last time it was clean, what with all the grass- and grease stains and patches of sweat. He was hauling a heavy-looking garbage bag, careful not to let it scrape the rocks, but as he saw her, he gingerly set it down and raised a hand in greeting. Astrid thought Phlegma might be overstating things slightly, though he was good-looking, with a sharp jawline and a nose almost too big for his face.

She waved back and parked her truck next to his car. She’d changed out of her work clothes before leaving the aquarium—they always seemed to end up smelling strongly of fish—and now she was dressed similarly to him, though her t-shirt was rather cleaner. 

Before picking up the bag again, the man pulled up the hem of his t-shirt to wipe at his face, revealing a surprisingly toned stomach underneath. Astrid felt heat suffuse her face as she looked, though he didn’t seem to notice either her gaze or her blush. She got out of the truck and shut the door.

“Hey there,” the man called as he hoisted the bag again, corded, wiry muscles standing out in his thin arms.

“Hi,” Astrid said. “Are you the owner?”

“I—uh, yeah, I am. That still feels weird to say. Can I help you with something?” Something about his vivid green eyes was deeply familiar to Astrid, though she couldn’t quite say why. And his voice—she’d definitely heard his voice before.

“No, just came by to say hi and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

He smiled at her, and his grin did funny things to her stomach. “Hi.”

There was a dumpster in the spot where his car had been parked earlier, and this was his destination. As he hefted the garbage bag and went to swing it into the dumpster, the muscles of his shoulders shifted under the thin cotton of his shirt. Astrid scolded herself for looking—surely it hadn’t been _that_ long—but all the same, she found herself enjoying the view.

He must have snagged the garbage bag on something after all, because as it swung through the air, the bottom of the bag split, the force and arc of his swing sending the matted leaves and cut-off branches inside flying through the air to spread themselves across the gravel of the driveway. He sighed deeply.

It was then, hearing his string of muttered curses and seeing his bemused expression as he surveyed the mess in front of him, that Astrid realized why he’d been so familiar to her. It was the dismay, the awkwardness, cutting through the handsomeness he’d apparently gained at some point, and though she hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, she knew it was—

“Hiccup?”

* * *

He came to town the summer she turned sixteen. 

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to him; he mostly kept to himself, and he was so short that initially, Astrid didn’t even realize they were the same age. She knew—the whole town knew—that he was the grandson of the widow who lived in the big Victorian on the cliff, that he was staying with her for the summer for reasons no one was quite sure about. She saw him plenty, of course, walking around town wearing a heavy-looking backpack and a standoffish, scrunched expression that clearly communicated he wanted to be left alone, and with which she was perfectly content to comply.

The first thing Astrid noticed about him was that he never wore shorts, no matter how hot the summer days got. Even Justin Ingerman, whom her best friend Heather had been mooning over all school year and who was fairly shy about his body, being by all accounts a big guy, got out his cargo shorts once June hit. 

But not this kid.

The second thing was that it was hurting him to walk. It started as just a limp, a rolling in his gait that could have been there for any number of reasons, but as the summer pressed on it got worse, the limp becoming more pronounced as his habitual scowl deepened. Astrid didn’t know why he walked so much, since it was so obviously painful. For that matter, she didn’t know why his grandmother wasn’t keeping him at home.

But then, she’d probably get tired of arguing with him about it too, she figured late one afternoon near the beginning of July. She, Heather, and Justin were riding their bikes up along the coastal road, on their way to the research aquarium north of town for the afternoon. Astrid had maneuvered them so that she and Heather were in front, with Justin centered a few yards behind them. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Justin, she did; she just knew that if he and Heather were riding side-by-side, she’d be completely cut out of the conversation—not intentionally, of course, it was just what happened. At least she tried to keep him involved.

Astrid, having been informed by a classmate’s bad sonnet during a poetry unit in English class that year that her hair was “like a river of molten gold,” had taken to wearing it tied back in a tight braid that lay heavily between her bare shoulder blades. 

The kid came into view as they approached his grandmother’s house, heavily limping as he walked doggedly along the road. He was going the other way, his face clenched as ever in that tight-lipped expression. He flushed as he saw them, and Astrid wasn’t sure if it was from pain, resentment, embarrassment, or something else entirely. 

“What’s his problem?” Heather asked when they were out of earshot.

Astrid twisted, bracing her hands on the handlebars of her bike, and looked back over her shoulder at him. He had stopped, and was gazing after them with an expression she couldn’t read from this distance.

She faced forward again. “I don’t know.”

She first spoke to him two weeks later, on an afternoon where Heather and Justin went to see a move Astrid wasn’t interested in at the little one-screen theater across the street from the hardware store Heather’s mom owned and operated. Astrid’s mom had given her a list of chores to finish by the time she got home from work and a bag of books to drop off at the library.

Astrid was on her way there, driving her parents’ station wagon, which was at least as old as she was. She was driving up the hill into town when she saw three familiar figures. Two of them had butt-length blonde hair even lighter than hers, and they were flanking the third, a short guy with black hair. She passed them without incident, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her, and crested the hill. Then she saw him, the same short, skinny kid she and Heather and Justin had biked past, trudging along on the side of the road ahead of her. His floppy brown hair was damp with sweat, and Astrid was willing to bet there was a growing wet patch on the back of his t-shirt underneath his backpack. His limp was more pronounced than she’d ever seen it.

“I should just drive past,” she muttered aloud. There wasn’t a reason for her to get involved, not really. She didn’t even know this kid. She should just keep going. 

But Astrid couldn’t do that, not when he was less than five hundred feet ahead of those three. They’d tear him apart, and it wasn’t like he’d ever done anything to her. 

So she pulled over, stopping when she was level at him. He stopped walking at the crunch of her tires on the shoulder of the road, wincing as he turned to peer into her passenger-side window, which she was rolling down. It took long enough that he had time to raise an eyebrow at her.

“Need a ride?” Astrid called.

“No, I—I’m, uh, I’m good.” His voice was deeper than she’d expected it to be, but distinctly nasal. 

“You sure?” she asked. “It’s really no trouble.”

His mouth bunched up as he looked first at her, then at the car door, then at her again. “You—you don’t even know me,” he said. “I mean, you’re a stranger. Why are you offering to let me get in your car?”

Astrid glanced in the rearview mirror; there wasn’t much time for subtlety. “Because you look like your leg hurts.”

His eyebrows drew together sharply. 

“Look, I can take you to your grandmother’s house if you want, or anywhere you want to go,” Astrid said. “Just get in the car.”

He glanced back the way she’d come. “You know my grandma?”

“Of course I know your grandmother.” After a second, she went on, “It’s got air conditioning.”

“Fine,” he finally said, opening the car door.

Astrid grinned. “Great. You can toss your bag in the back and hold these”—she picked up the tote bag full of books—“in your lap.”

“Okay.” He climbed into the passenger seat, moving his left leg a little stiffly, and glared at her like he was daring her to say something. When she didn’t, he buckled his seatbelt and let himself relax into the seat with a sigh she probably wasn’t supposed to hear. He took the books from her and set them in his lap as Astrid pulled back onto the road. This close, she could see the freckles scattered across his face, standing out against his face, which was nearly white with pain. 

“So did you enjoy the, uh, _The Countess and the Highwayman_?" he asked, pulling out the paperback on top of the pile.

Astrid laughed. “It’s my mom’s. They all are.”

He nodded slowly, looking at the next book down. “Nice of you to run errands for her.” 

“Yeah, well, you know, gotta help out. I’m Astrid, by the way.”

“Hiccup.”

She looked at him incredulously. 

“It’s what my mom—it’s what my mom calls me. Because I’m so small.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen. How old are you?” 

“Sixteen.”

He ran his eyes over her surreptitiously; Astrid pretended not to notice. “Oh.”

She steered the car into the library parking lot and found a spot. “Stay here,” she said, grabbing the bag out of his lap. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, yeah,” Hiccup said. “I will be waiting. Here. For you.”

Astrid felt like it was taking forever to get the books into the return slot, slipping them through one by one. She would have just dumped them if she could—the librarian could give her all the disapproving looks she wanted—but there was really no way to.

Finally, though, she was getting back in the car, tossing the empty tote bag into the backseat with Hiccup’s backpack. “Okay, now where to?” she asked, buckling the seatbelt on over her loose red t-shirt.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Hiccup said.

“Well, you’ve been spending the summer walking all over town,” Astrid said, shifting into reverse, and saw Hiccup’s head jerk toward her out of the corner of her eye. “You’ve gotta be going somewhere, right?” 

“I mean, not—not really.”

“Okay,” Astrid said. “Then I’m just gonna start driving around, and if you decide there’s somewhere you want to go, or you see a park or something, or a street that strikes your fancy, just let me know.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hiccup asked. 

“Because I’m bored,” Astrid said. It was true enough. “And I’ve got nothing better to do, which means if you weren’t here, I’d just be doing this by myself. And that would be weird.”

“I mean, not that weird,” he said. “It’s just driving.”

Astrid didn’t say anything, just giving him a close-lipped smile. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my leg?” he said.

“Do you want me to ask you about your leg?”

Hiccup shrugged. “Well, no, not really. But everyone does.”

Astrid sighed. “No offense, but I don’t really care that much about your leg,” she said. “I just think it’s dumb of you to walk on it so much when it’s obviously hurting you.”

“It happened a year ago,” he said. “I should be over it by now.”

“Well, obviously you’re not. You should take better care of yourself.”

His eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean, you don’t care?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry it hurts, and you can tell me about it if you want to, but I’m not going to ask you about it if you don’t want me to.”

He nodded, seeming to accept that. 

“I’m an artist,” he said after a minute. “That’s what I’ve been doing, why I’ve been walking all over town. I’m painting the ocean, and I’ve been trying to find good vantage points.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” she said, ignoring his wide-eyed stare. “Your grandma’s house has the best ocean views in the whole town. Everyone knows that.”

“With only the small drawback of my grandma being there.”

“Fair enough.” An idea occurred to Astrid. “You know, I know a spot with great views of the ocean where I can guarantee we’re not going to run into your grandma. Or anyone.”

“Really? Where’s that?”

“On a boat.” 

“And do you… have a boat?”

“My dad does,” Astrid said. “He uses it to take tourists out to see the whales. But it’s the off-season, so he’s not using it.”

“Okay, then,” Hiccup said. “As long as he doesn’t mind.”

Astrid shot him a mischievous grin, pretending not to hear his sharp intake of breath as she turned the car toward the harbor. She parked in her dad’s usual spot and turned off the car. 

Minutes later, they were on the water. Astrid steered the boat across the white-capped waves until the land was just a dark line along the horizon. Then she cut the engine.

“That a good enough view?” she asked, gesturing expansively at the horizon.

Hiccup nodded contemplatively. “Yeah, that should work.” To his credit, he was only a little bit green around the gills; the trip out hadn’t been the most gentle Astrid had ever had, but he didn’t seem unduly bothered by the choppy waves. His hands were already on the zipper of his backpack, apparently eager to get started. 

“I’ll just be, um—” Astrid looked around, realizing belatedly that she hadn’t brought anything to do while Hiccup was painting. 

He paused in the middle of pulling out pencils and watercolors and paper to take out a book and hold it out to her. “Ever read the _Silmarillion_?” he asked.

“Um, no, I haven’t,” Astrid said

“You might like it. It's sort of the world history of Middle-Earth.”

“From _Lord of the Rings_?”

He nodded. 

“Okay.” Astrid was pretty sure she’d seen those movies. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Hiccup grinned. “Excellent.” He dove back into his art supplies, and before long he was lost to the world. Certainly lost to Astrid.

She got a few pages into the _Silmarillion_ before she had to admit she was in over her depth. The language was pretty, but Astrid was missing a lot of the context, and she kept finding herself looking out toward the horizon, watching the motion of the waves, which never seemed to get less mesmerizing, no matter how long she spent on the water. 

Glancing back at Hiccup, she found another sight she knew she’d have a hard time looking away from. She couldn’t see what he was drawing, but his hands were hypnotic as they flitted back and forth across the paper, alternating between short, delicate brushes with the pencil and long, deliberate strokes that would become the piece’s main sightlines. She’d never really watched someone draw before, and it was surprisingly tactile, as though he was physically shaping something with his hands. He was left-handed, she noted. His tongue flickered out now and then, and she realized he was calmer than she’d ever seen him, neither nervous nor angry nor in pain, simply intent, focused on what he was doing as his bright green eyes flicked from the horizon to the paper and back again, only occasionally landing on her. 

Making herself look away, Astrid undid her braid and ran her fingers through her hair, letting the sea breeze ruffle the blonde waves as she looked out over the water. She hadn’t been wearing her braid long enough for her scalp to be used to it, and she was starting to feel the tightness. Plus she figured she could just redo it before they went back to shore. 

“You don’t happen to have any water, do you?” Hiccup asked, and she looked around at him. He smiled sheepishly. “Silly question, I know, considering where we are. But I’d rather not use seawater.”

Astrid laughed, unfolding her legs as she climbed out of her seat. “Of course we have water,” she said. She popped open a compartment behind her seat and pulled a bottle from a package of bottled water. “No cups, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine,” Hiccup said, unscrewing the lid. “Thank you.” He took a swallow before nestling the bottle in the crook of his left knee, where the thin plastic crunched gently. “I’m not gonna do much, I just wanna put a couple layers down so I know where I was going with the colors.” He was already wetting his brush and dipping it into the paints. 

“Take your time,” Astrid said, and she meant it - they had plenty of time before they lost the tide. She’d taken a bottle of water for herself too, and she sipped at it. 

Hiccup nodded. “Thanks.”

The paint only made it more interesting to watch, as every so often he’d frown and re-mix something, or get streaks of color on his long, thin fingers that he’d then wipe absently on the front of his shirt. She saw blues and grays and greens go down, and then some orange - the sunset, she thought. She did wonder at the red, but he didn’t use very much of it. Before long, he was sitting back, nodding in apparent satisfaction. 

“Can I see?” Astrid asked.

“No,” he said, a little hastily, then seemed to realize that and cleared his throat. “It’s not done,” he went on. “I still have a lot more to do; there are some colors I want to use on it that I don’t typically carry with me.” As he spoke, he was pulling a plastic case out of his backpack and slipping the paper inside, clasping it carefully before slipping it back into the bag. To keep the painting from smudging, Astrid guessed.

“Can I see it when it’s done?”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling at her. “These are more for me than for showing people, though.”

Astrid nodded. “Okay. I’d love to see it. But no pressure.”

He screwed the top back on his water bottle. “Probably doesn’t make much of a difference, but it somehow doesn’t feel ecologically responsible to dump my paint water directly in the ocean,” he said, sticking the bottle in one of the side compartments of his backpack, and she laughed.

Ignoring the pink that tinged his cheeks, Astrid turned back to the wheel and reached to turn the ignition on again, but stopped when Hiccup’s long fingers, still covered in paint, closed around her wrist. 

“Wait,” he said, his voice hushed. 

Astrid jerked her hand away, glaring at him. Maybe bringing him out here hadn’t been such a good idea, she thought, before she saw him pointing at something behind her.

She glared at him for a second longer, warning him not to try anything—she could and would throw him off this boat—but as she turned, her breath caught in her throat, and she gasped aloud at what she saw. 

She didn’t know what it was. That surprised her—she’d spent her whole life on these waters, and she knew their creatures. It was too big to be anything but a whale, she thought, and actually, no—too big even to be most kinds of whale. And she’d never seen a whale that shade of bright, vivid blue before. The spines—for that was what Hiccup had spotted—pushed further out of the water, displaying a back covered in scales—and not fish scales. No, these were _reptilian._ And those… _those were wings,_ unfurling over the surface of the water. 

A bright yellow eye opened, fixing Astrid with a slit-pupiled stare that made her jaw fall open and her heart start racing in her chest. It blinked once, then dove back under the water, taking the rest of the dragon (for Astrid didn’t know what else to call a giant reptile with scaly blue skin, cat eyes, and _wings_ ) with it, sending up a great splash that sprayed over the boat, soaking Astrid to the skin.

Turning back to Hiccup, she saw that he was soaking wet too, and much the same as she was, mouth and eyes wide, clearly not believing what he’d just seen. The only difference was, where Astrid’s first response had been terror, Hiccup’s was wonder—wonder and delight. 

His eyes were dancing when he met her gaze, and his mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin, so enthusiastic that even despite how scared Astrid had been just a second ago, she couldn’t help but smile back, giggling nervously. 

“What the fuck,” Hiccup said in a delighted whisper, and then, louder, as if she hadn’t heard him the first time, “ _What_ the _fuck?!”_

* * *

Hiccup’s eyes sparkled as he realized who she was, and suddenly Astrid had no trouble whatsoever seeing the skinny, gawky kid that he’d been the last time she’d seen him. His freckles were still there, scattered across his nose and cheeks in half-familiar constellations. He looked her over, from her braided hair to her mud-spattered boots, and grinned widely. 

“Astrid!” he said, half-laughing. “Gods, how are you?”

“I’m good,” Astrid said. She found herself grinning back at him, the expression feeling almost foreign on her face.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked. “I’ve got lemonade. Or beer.”

“Lemonade sounds good,” Astrid said. “I still gotta drive home.”

His eyes went to the truck behind her, which she hadn’t bothered to lock. “Oh. Right.” He gestured at the mess of branches and leaves that was now spread over his driveway. “Let me just clean this up and we can head in.”

“Here, let me help,” Astrid said, but Hiccup was already waving her off as he bent down to scoop it up an armful at a time. 

“No, I’d better do it, a lot of them are really—ow! Shit. See?” But Astrid couldn’t see, not with the way he was cradling his hand to his chest. Reaching his uninjured hand to the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a pair of gloves. “That’s why I’ve got these, but of course they don’t do much good if you’re not wearing them.”

Astrid willed herself not to chuckle. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”

“No, it’s on the list.”

“That’s okay, I have one in my truck.” She retrieved it, crawling onto the driver’s seat to open the glovebox, and hopped back down onto the gravel. “Inside would probably be better.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Hiccup said. “This way.” He trotted up the steps onto the front porch and opened the door, leading her in through a hall with rooms on either side, scattered with the shapes of sofas and armchairs and what Astrid was pretty sure was a grand piano covered in dust cloths. 

“Yeah, no one had been in here in weeks,” Hiccup said. “And my grandma hardly ever used these rooms even before that, not since—not for years. I’m working on cleaning it up, but I figured I should start with the stuff outside before it gets too hot.”

He was leading her into the kitchen as he spoke, a fairly big room with black and white tiled floors, a wooden table in the center, and a double-basin sink below a window that looked out over the back garden, where he’d been working when she arrived. Astrid went to the sink, setting her first-aid kit on the counter and quickly washing her hands before she turned to reach for Hiccup’s. As he pulled it away from his chest, she saw a splotch of blood on the front of his t-shirt—not a lot, not enough to be alarming, but definitely there.

He glanced down, following her gaze. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Good thing this shirt was already pretty much ruined anyway.”

This time Astrid did chuckle, taking his hand and holding it under the running water. “Hold still,” she said as he hissed. The cut wasn’t that big, more of a scratch, really, several inches long along the side of his hand beneath his pinky finger. It would be awkward to bandage one-handed though. “I’m just making sure there isn’t any dirt in it.” She couldn’t help but notice that, though he’d grown rather a lot, his hands were still quite big, with the same long, thin fingers she remembered. “Are you still an artist?” she asked, ripping open an antiseptic pad and dabbing it over the wound. 

His eyebrows had drawn together at the sting of the antiseptic. “I, uh—yeah,” he said. “More of a hobby now, though.”

“What do you do for work?” She smeared on a little ointment and peeled open the bandage, carefully placing it so none of the adhesive was over the wound. 

“Mostly I’ve just been working here,” he said. “I would’ve come sooner, but I just finished school a week or so before I got here. It’s amazing how many things there are to fix in a big old house like this.” He examined the bandage. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“For sure,” Astrid said, smiling at him—she was doing that a lot today. “Try not to get it wet. I’ll leave a couple more bandages for you, but it should start healing on its own pretty quickly.”

Hiccup nodded. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “I’m just going to grab a clean shirt.”

“Okay,” Astrid said, nodding, and he vanished out the kitchen door. She heard his rapid, uneven footsteps going up the stairs. 

She wandered back out into the front hall, looking around at the shrouded shapes of furniture in what had once been the sitting room and parlor. Something caught her eye, hanging on the wall above a dust cloth-covered sofa in the sitting room. She slowly walked into the room, feeling its long years pressing down on her, and stood in front of the couch, looking at the painting.

“Astrid? Oh.” She heard him walk across the room toward her, his gait imbalanced on the hardwood and then muffled on the thick rug, which was no doubt an antique. She felt him come up beside her, though he gave her plenty of space. 

“I thought you said these weren’t for showing people,” she said, head cocked as she studied the painting. 

It was the one he’d started when they were out on the boat together, just before they’d seen—it. It was of the sea, but rather than a traditional landscape like she’d expected, it was from a point of view that was nearly what Hiccup’s had been, showing, yes, the white-capped waves and the horizon and the sinking sun—but also showing the side and back of the boat. 

Showing _her._

She was seated, legs folded beneath her on her seat, wearing a loose red t-shirt and dark blue athletic shorts that left most of her legs bare. One bare foot was visible where it rested on the edge of her seat, the knee bent and sticking up over the armrest. Her flip-flops lay discarded underneath her seat. Her hair was down, hanging to her waist in soft, loose waves, and she was looking out toward the horizon, holding a book with a green cover loosely in one hand. He’d actually used some metallic gold in her hair where it caught the light. 

“They were,” he confirmed. “But I made an exception for this one, as a thank-you to my grandma. For letting me stay with her.”

“You really miss her, don’t you?” Astrid asked, looking into his face. 

Hiccup swallowed as he nodded. “I mean, yeah, of course I do. It’s not something—she was remarkable.”

Astrid nodded, looking back at the painting. Seeing the girl there, seeing a version of herself that didn’t really exist anymore, was just _strange._

“Astrid?” Hiccup asked, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, I’m good.” She half-stepped away from him, and he let the hand fall. She could still feel its warmth on her arm, though, and and found herself wanting to lean into him, to— 

“Lemonade?” Hiccup asked. 

Astrid had almost forgotten. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Back this way,” he said with a jerk of his chin, and led her into the kitchen. “Have a seat,” he said, nodding to the table, and she obliged. He went to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of what Astrid was rather surprised to see looked like fresh-squeezed lemonade. He poured a glass each for them, placing Astrid’s on a napkin on the table in front of her before carrying his own glass and the pitcher over to the table.

“This is a really nice table,” Astrid said, running her fingers over the intricate carvings along its curved edge. 

“Thanks,” Hiccup said. “I actually made it in high school shop class.”

“Nice,” Astrid said, nodding. She could see that it was carefully handcrafted. “It looks sturdy,” she said musingly.

Hiccup choked on his lemonade, and Astrid blushed scarlet.

“I’m so sorry, that’s not what I—” she started to say, but Hiccup was shaking his head, waving a hand at her. 

“You’re fine,” he said once he’d stopped coughing. “Just went down the wrong pipe.” He gently rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface. “It is quite sturdy. Solid oak.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

He grinned at the praise. “I was actually thinking about setting a workshop out back, maybe start making a few things to sell. Not over the rose garden, of course, but I don’t really think I need a tennis court. I’m just waiting on the permits from city council now. I want to keep the garden going, but I don’t really know where to start.”

“I can help you with that,” Astrid said, and when he looked at her, surprised, she went on, “Or my dad can, anyway. He helped your grandma with gardening for years.”

Hiccup nodded as though realizing something. “Mr. Hofferson,” he said. “So that would make you Astrid Hofferson.” 

She nodded. “What’s your last name?” 

“Haddock.”

“Like the fish?”

He nodded, smiling slightly.

“So Hiccup Haddock?”

His smile widened. “Gods, no one’s called me that in years.”

“So what should I call you then?” Astrid asked.

“Hiccup is fine.”

She giggled. “Okay. So you’ll be making furniture and fixing up the house. Sounds like fun.”

He nodded. “And once I’ve gotten things down to a manageable level here, I might see if anyone in town needs a hand fixing things.”

She took a sip of lemonade. “I definitely know a few people who could use the help. There’s not a lot of money in that, though.”

He looked a little surprised at the comment, but only chuckled. “Well, it’s not like I have to worry about rent,” he said, gesturing at the house around them. 

“But don’t you have student loans?” she asked. “If you just finished school, then you must have either taken a really long time on your bachelor’s degree or gone for your master’s.”

“PhD, actually,” he said. “Biomechanical engineering.”

“You’ve gotta be in a lot of debt,” Astrid said. She was still paying off the loans from her own bachelor’s degree, and probably would be for a good while longer. 

Hiccup smiled ruefully. “Not anymore. My grandma basically left me everything, and the first thing I did was pay off my loans. Not that I’d had a ton to start with, since I was able to teach all through grad school.”

Astrid nodded. “That’s good.”

“What do you do?” he asked, clearly eager to get the topic off his finances. 

“Oh, I work up at the Wilderwest Institute,” she said.

Hiccup grinned. “That’s amazing. My grandma took me there a couple times, it’s such a cool place.”

Astrid found herself grinning as she nodded. “Yeah, I really like working there.”

“Have you seen any more dragons?” 

Astrid started in her seat. “What?”

“Since you’re working in marine biology,” he said. “Is that not why you’re still here?”

She took a swallow of lemonade to cover her deep, shuddering breath and shaking hands. “You’re not serious, right? We didn’t see a—a _dragon,_ Hiccup. We were just kids. We couldn’t have seen a dragon, because _dragons don’t exist.”_

“Astrid, I know what I saw.” His brows were knit together in confusion. 

“I don’t know what you think you saw,” Astrid said, “but it definitely wasn’t a dragon. It was a piece of driftwood, or a fucked-up fishing net, or maybe a whale having a really rough day. But it wasn’t a dragon.” She stood.

“Astrid—” 

“Thanks for the lemonade,” she said. “I’d better get going.” With that, she headed back out past the dust cloth-covered rooms, past the painting, and out the front door. Hiccup was a few steps behind her, but he didn’t try to stop her, only watching from the front steps as she got back in her truck, started it, and drove off down the long driveway. 

She was halfway home before she glanced down at the glovebox, which was still open, and realized she’d left her first-aid kit on his kitchen counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! New thing! I hope you like it. I wasn't planning on starting another chaptered AU quite so soon, but I'm excited for this; it gets more into one of my favorite things from THW, which is, of course, Astrid & Boats. It’s even got a buffer chapter, which is wild. Or at least it did before I gutted it. I probably won't be as diligent about weekly updates on this one as I was with City of Bridges, as I have a bunch of one-shot ideas I'd like to get written sooner than later, but updates should still be fairly regular.
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are always greatly appreciated and bring me joy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry my upload schedule has gotten a little messed up, but I've been stressed. Turns out I'm an essential worker, which has taken some dealing-with.
> 
> Enjoy!

Astrid didn't even bother trying to pretend she wasn't avoiding him. Not to herself, anyway, and there wasn't really anyone else to bother with—Eret didn't care, and there was no way she was going to bring it up with her dad.

She found herself wishing she could talk to her mom about it, not because her mom had believed her about the dragon any more than anyone else had, and not even because her mom had ever been that interested in talking about guys, but just to be able to talk to her. It was a familiar pain by now, and Astrid swallowed it down along with her breakfast smoothie as she looked out the window of her small kitchen, which overlooked the docks and the sea beyond.

She lived alone in a studio apartment which, given its prime location, ought to have been a lot more expensive than it was. The only reason it was so cheap was that the house was old, and not in the same stately, charming way as Hiccup's grandmother's house—no, it was more than a little decrepit, and Astrid's stomach lurched every time she climbed the stairs to her converted attic space. Every so often, her landlord—who was also Astrid's downstairs neighbor—would grumble that he ought to just tear the house down and build a new one in its place, but he hadn't done it yet.

The place was cheap, and that was what mattered. What with having to help support her dad and paying off her student loans, and not making all that much money to start with, it was all she could afford. Astrid couldn't bring herself to even think about moving back into her parents' house. Her dad's house, now.

And the apartment wasn't so bad, once you got inside. At least there she'd been able to decorate, though she had to admit it was still a bit sparse.

Astrid finished her smoothie and rinsed out the cup, putting it back in its place on the drying rack. She made a point, as she'd been doing for the past two weeks, not to glance up at the big house as she passed it on her way to work. On the way back, though, her resolve weakened by a long day on top of already feeling down, she couldn't help it. 

He wasn't there.

She didn't realize she was looking for his car until she spotted it, sitting in the parking lot of Heather's hardware store. A second later, Hiccup himself came out the front door of the store, carrying two heavy-looking bags, and as though he could sense her, his head turned toward the street just in time to make eye contact with her as she drove past.

She tore her eyes away, feeling blood suffuse her cheeks, and drove home.

The next night, Astrid was settling into her semi-habitual evening at one of the town's bars. It was one of the less fashionable ones in town, frequented mostly by older fishermen and whale-watching guides who were just there to drink and keep to themselves.

Which was why Astrid liked it.

All the regulars were there already, and so it was something of a surprise when the bar's front door creaked open. Astrid twisted, looking over her shoulder, and then hurriedly hunched back down over her drink at the sight of a familiar pair of rich green eyes. Judging by the quick glimpse, Hiccup seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

There was a moment's hesitation before she felt him approach. He placed a hand on the back of the stool next to her. "This seat taken?"

She eyed him. He was wearing jeans, as he always did, and a green henley with a leather jacket layered over it. "Does it look taken?"

Hiccup blinked, pressing his lips together. "I mean can I—may I sit here?" he said quickly, anticipating her next piece of snark even as her mouth opened. 

"Sure," Astrid said, feeling an amused half-smile pulling at her lips. She took a sip of her drink as he did so, hanging his jacket on the back of the stool. 

"I promise I'm not following you," he said. "I've been coming here a couple times a week; I guess we must have just never crossed paths before now."

"Doesn't really seem like your kind of place," Astrid said.

Hiccup's eyes danced with laughter. "Yeah, well, yours either."

"Don't act like you know me."

"I—okay then." When the bartender came over, Hiccup nodded toward Astrid. "I'll have whatever she's having."

The bartender nodded. "Alright. Shall I start a tab for you?"

"Yes please." As the bartender walked away, Hiccup asked, "What is that, by the way? An amber ale? It looks good."

"It's mead."

"Oh." After a second, he said, "You know, I could say the same to you."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What do you mean?"

"Assuming you know me well enough to decide if this is my kind of place."

"Are you a fifty-year-old fisherman who's spent so much time on the sea his very soul's gone salty?"

"Well, no," Hiccup admitted. "There is that."

Astrid took a drink of her mead. "How have you been?"

He eyed her askance, evidently unsure how to behave after the way their last encounter had ended. "Oh, good. Just working on the house. Still waiting on the permits for the workshop—thank you," he said as the bartender brought his drink. "You?"

"What?"

"How's work?"

"Oh. It's good," Astrid said.

He took a sip of his mead. "Well, um, how's Heather doing? You two are friends, right?"

Astrid snorted, the sound more irritated than amused. "You'd know better than me." 

"Oh." He paused. "Well, what about your other friend, that big blonde guy?"

"Justin," Astrid said. "Justin Ingerman."

"Yeah. How's he?"

"Fine, last I heard," she said. "He's in school to be a librarian."

"I see." He took another drink. "I've actually been talking to another guy named Ingerman. I wonder if they're related—it's not the most common name."

"Oh really?" The irritation that had been prickling at the back of Astrid’s head as they spoke was starting to build, bordering now on anger. 

"Yeah, he—um, I've been doing research about the—that thing we saw. He says it's probably what they call a Thunderdrum, though it's got some variations from—" He stopped, seeing the way Astrid's jaw was clenching and the way she was staring at her drink. "Astrid, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her voice flat.

"You don't look fine."

She didn't say anything, just trying to keep her hands from clenching into fists.

Hiccup glanced at her hands, and then back at her face, considering her for a long moment. "Astrid?" he asked, very quietly.

"Yeah?"

"If you want me to leave you alone, I will," he said, and Astrid made a barely-audible noise in her throat that he somehow managed to catch. "Astrid, what's going on?" he asked. ”I don’t understand why you’re angry with me."

Something inside Astrid snapped. "Because," she said, turning to look into his face, and now she'd started, she found she couldn't stop. "You got to leave."

"What?"

"You got to leave at the end of the summer," she went on. "You didn't have to stick around here another two years, having to listen to people tease you incessantly about 'Old Bartholomew', _not believing_ you, thinking you were seeing things, and finally get out to go to college, only to end up having to come back the second you graduated because your mom got sick and you had to come back to help take care of her, and then—" She just managed to stop herself, looking into her mead again and compressing her lips into a tight line, hunching her shoulders even further.

"Oh gods, Astrid," he said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

She gave him a sidelong look. "Stop looking at me like that."

He shut his mouth and blinked a few times until the sharpness of the compassion and horror in his eyes had faded a little. "Sorry." He paused. "How long ago?"

"A year." 

"Thor," he muttered under his breath. "So it was a couple years, then."

Astrid nodded, swallowing convulsively. "Yeah, it took a while."

"Astrid, I'm sorry."

She nodded again, clearing her throat before going on. "And then you come back here—you _choose_ to come back—and you're talking about making furniture and working as a handyman, which is fine, that's your business, but then you start talking about the—about _dragons,_ and I just—I can't."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hiccup nod. "Okay."

"What?" she asked, turning to look at him. 

"Astrid, that—that day with you, it was one of the most incredible days of my entire life. And not just because of the—what we saw. Because of _you_." 

She eyed him warily, anger still burning in the back of her throat.

"And yes, the—that's part of why I came back. I'm going back out looking for it, and of course I want you with me."

Astrid breathed in sharply. "Hiccup, I can't—"

"I know," he said quickly. "And that's okay. That's what I'm trying to say. Astrid, I can't begin to imagine what you've been going through. And I'm sorry it all happened. I honestly had no idea. About any of it. And I get it if you never want to talk to me again, because a lot of it's my fault. I get why you're angry. But you are amazing, and I'd be an idiot if I didn't at least try to be your friend."

Astrid was rapidly becoming aware that this was the longest conversation she'd had since before her mom died. She had the strangest feeling, too, like Hiccup wasn't just looking at her, he was _seeing_ her. And she didn't know the last time she'd felt like that. 

But at least she could do something with what he'd just said. 

"Are you seriously asking me if I want to be friends?" Astrid asked, forcing a laugh. "What is this, kindergarten?"

Hiccup's mouth curved in a smile. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Astrid was torn. There was part of her that very much wanted to be his friend, that had started thinking of him as a friend on that summer day nine years ago and still did, and even now was drawn to him for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on; that part of her was glowing with happiness that he felt the same, that he wanted that too.

But part of her was screaming—a small but insistent voice telling her that letting him close would only mean getting hurt again, that she had to _make him leave._

The panic built in her chest as she looked at him, and she could see in the way his eyebrows crinkled that it was showing in her face. 

"I need to go home,” she said, standing. “Sorry, I’ll see you around.”

"You don't have to be sorry, Astrid." He gulped the rest of his mead. 

After settling her tab, she strode toward the door. She heard a stir at one of the tables in the back corner and glanced over to see a man shaking his head in seeming disappointment. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw money changing hands. Her teeth ground together, and before she could say anything, she pushed her way through the door.

Astrid breathed a sigh of relief as she got outside, already feeling better outside the noise and press of the bar. She didn’t get too far down the street before she heard a voice calling her name. His voice.

She turned back to see Hiccup half-jogging after her. “Astrid! Wait up,” he called. Sighing through her nose, she did so; he stopped jogging when he saw she was waiting for him, though he was still a little out of breath when he walked up to her. "I don't see your truck," he said, glancing around at the street.

Astrid took a deep breath and let it out. "No, I walked. My place isn't far."

"Can I walk you home?"

"I don't need you to."

"I know you don't," he said, smiling at her. "But I could use the walk; I wasn't expecting to be drinking mead tonight, and I still gotta drive home."

It was a reasonable explanation. Plus, now that he was here, Astrid felt a pang at the idea of saying no, not wanting to be alone again just yet. "Okay then," she said.

Hiccup zipped up his jacket as they walked; though spring was already turning into summer, the breeze that came off the ocean at night could chill to the bone. 

He seemed content to walk in silence, just keeping pace with Astrid and occasionally looking up at the starry sky above them. He kept his hands in his pockets, though every now and again one would come out to comb through his hair or fiddle with the zipper of his jacket. 

It was nice hair, she thought vaguely. It looked soft, and she bet that if she were to run her fingers through it...

She cut off that train of thought, glancing down and away as Hiccup's chin tilted back down from looking at the sky again. Then she remembered something. "Oh, how's your leg?"

"My leg?" he asked, seemingly taken aback, and she nodded. He snorted. "I mean, still gone."

Astrid pulled up short midway through the circle of light cast by the streetlamp they were passing beneath. "Wait, what?"

Hiccup turned and looked at her, and even in the stark white light that was washing him out, she could see the blush in his cheeks. "Oh, you... you didn't know."

She shook her head.

"I—I assumed everyone knew. Yeah, just below the knee." He looked away for a second, then back at her. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not," Astrid said. "I just didn't realize." Hiccup nodded, giving her a small half-smile. Astrid started walking again, and he followed. 

"Wait," he said after a second. "If you didn't know, then why'd you stop?"

"What?"

"That—that day. When we went out on your dad's boat. Why did you stop and ask if I wanted a ride?"

"Does it matter?"

"I think so."

Astrid shrugged. "I mean, I'd been watching you walk around town all summer, and you were obviously in pain. And then I came across you, and I had some time and a way to help. So I did."

Slowly, Hiccup nodded. "Thanks, by the way."

Astrid smiled slightly. "For sure."

They walked on in silence for a little while longer. Then Hiccup asked, "Does your dad still have that boat, by any chance?"

"It's my boat now," Astrid said. "He just does the gardening thing these days. It's sort of on indefinite loan to the Institute, though."

"I see." 

Sensing where he was going with this, Astrid went on, "And it really wouldn't be suited to an overnight expedition."

He gave her a sheepish, lopsided smile. "Am I that transparent?"

She only shrugged, shoving her hands deeper in her pockets. "How are the home repairs going?"

"Pretty well, I think, though after falling through the steps on the back porch, almost anything is an improvement." She shot him a shocked look, and he smiled wryly. "The porch itself was fine, which is good since my grandma used to spend a lot of time out there. But one of the steps rotted somehow, and I didn't notice until I was stepping on it. I'm sort of going from top to bottom on the outside of the house, which means I've been spending a lot of time with gutters this week. When I move inside, I think I'm going to get one of those little portable AC units and just bring it with me to whatever room I'm working on. I'm planning to work from the bottom up on the inside and finish with the attic, which'll be my room when I'm done. There's this stained glass window up there you can see from the garden that just lights up during sunsets—you know the one?"

Astrid nodded. She was enjoying listening to him ramble, and from the way he was talking with his hands, he was enjoying it too. "So you're not doing anything with the roof?"

He shook his head. "No, I replaced it myself three summers ago, so I'm not too worried about it."

"Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that." Astrid shot him a sidelong look. "I didn't realize that was you." She remembered now that he'd spent a lot of the summer topless, which she'd noticed even from the road. It was the summer after she'd graduated, when she'd come back to help with her mom, and she'd just started her job at the Institute.

Hiccup chuckled. "Yeah, that was me. I'd just finished my master's, and I already knew what I was going to write my dissertation on, so during the mornings I would ruminate as I worked, and then write down whatever I'd come up with during my lunch break, while I was waiting for it to cool down a little bit outside."

"And is that when you fell in love with the attic?"

"I guess you could say that," he said. "I'd been going up there since I was a kid, but that was the first time I started doing the whole 'and that's where I'd put the bed' thing. There are actually boxes and boxes of letters and old books up there. Once I've gotten everything done, I might turn one of the bedrooms into a library and archive all of it properly."

"You've got enough for a whole library?" Astrid asked.

He nodded. "At least a bedroom-sized one. The women in my mom's family were all prolific letter-writers. Except my mom, that is. I've only read some of them, but what I have read talks about a lot of important events from the years they were written. Along with plenty of things I sort of wish I didn't know about my great-grandmother."

Astrid giggled, and Hiccup turned to look at her. She could just see the look of delight playing across his face—they were between streetlights—and a wave of warm tingles washed over her at the look in his eyes.

"You know, puberty kind of hit you like a truck," she said without thinking about it.

He laughed. "You're not the first person to say that," he said. "Not even to use that phrase. But honestly, it was already kind of hitting me when we first met. The first painful impact, I guess you could call it." 

Astrid laughed softly. The sound was strange, almost out-of-practice in her throat. "This is my place," she said as they turned a corner and her truck came into view.

Hiccup's eyebrows rose. "The whole place?" 

"No, just the attic room. I'd invite you up for some water, but I don't think the stairs would hold us both."

His eyebrows drew together. "Excuse me?" 

"Yeah, they're not very sturdy."

"Hmm." There was a strange look on his face. "You know, your landlord really ought to get that fixed."

Astrid sighed. "Yeah, I know. But what can you do?" She looked up at him. "Thanks for walking me home."

"Of course, milady." She rolled her eyes, and he grinned. As she was turning away, he said, "Hey, Astrid?"

She stopped and looked back at him. "Yeah?"

Hiccup took a step forward to close some of the distance between them. "Listen. I... I know you don't think you can go on this trip with me. And that's fine," he said hastily. "If you can't go, you can't go. But I think you can do it, because you’re strong, and you’re brave and intelligent, and—gods, Astrid, if anyone can do this it’s you. And if you don’t go, I’ll go on my own, but I’d really rather have you there with me. But if that's not the issue, if it's that you don't want to, say so now, and I will drop the whole thing and never talk to you about it—about dragons—ever again. Just say the word, tell me you don't want to go, and I'll leave you alone."

Astrid opened her mouth, but the words didn't come out. She couldn't say them. 

Because the thing was, _she wanted to go._ She'd wanted to since he first brought it up, whether because of him, the dragons, or just to get out of town, she wasn't sure. 

But she did want to. 

She shut her mouth again and looked at him.

He was smiling, not quite able to suppress the toothy grin that spread across his face, though she could see he was trying not to look over-eager.

"Okay then," he said. "I'll see you around."

She nodded. "See you around."

The second she woke up on Monday morning, Astrid realized with dreadful certainty that she was going to be late, and when she checked her phone, she realized the instinct telling her so was correct. "Shit!" she hissed, throwing back her covers and lurching out of bed. Her laundry basket was full of clean clothes, and she dumped them onto her sofa, digging through the pile for some work clothes. Tossing her pajamas on the floor, she slipped into her work clothes, tucking her short-sleeved button-down into her khaki pants and shoving some clothes for after work into her bag. 

There was no time for a proper braid, or breakfast for that matter. At least she'd made her lunch the night before, so she pulled it out of the fridge and stuck it in her bag. After hastily brushing her teeth, she rushed outside and locked the door, then descended the stairs as precipitously as caution would allow, pulling her hair into a messy bun as she went. Her landlord came out of his front door as Astrid walked to her truck. 

"Hey, Astrid," he called. "We're going to have someone coming by to work on the outside of the house. He should be done by the time you get home."

"Yeah, okay, thanks for letting me know!" Astrid said. She got into her truck and started the engine, reversing onto the street. Technically, he should have given her written notice, but there was no time to argue this, and not much of a point in doing so.

When she drove past, glancing up the driveway, Hiccup's car was parked in its usual spot.

"And what sort of time do you call this?" Eret asked as she walked into the office.

Astrid looked at the clock and winced. "Sorry, Eret."

He laughed. "It's alright, Astrid. You've been late, what, twice in the last year? Just call ahead next time."

She nodded. "Yeah, okay. Thanks. I'd better go make sure Tim"—the resident octopus—"hasn't broken out of his tank again."

From there, the day kept going downhill. Tim _had_ broken out of his tank, and so it fell to Astrid to track him down and apprehend him. He was en route to one of the aquarium's fish displays, one of the few not populated entirely by animals that were being rehabilitated, all three of his hearts full of nefarious intent. He waved his six remaining arms in displeasure as Astrid hauled him back to his enclosure in a plastic bucket they kept next to his tank for just this purpose, muttering as she went, "I know, I know, you're bored. I'm _sorry._ We're working on getting you some better habitat enrichment."

Then, after she'd gotten Tim back in his tank and made sure the latches were secure, Astrid discovered that the seals were angry over their breakfast being delayed. She sighed, tossing fish after fish into their waiting mouths until their barking finally subsided. 

The final straw came when she realized, digging through her bag at the end of the day, that it had been foolish to hope that things would start looking up once she got off work.

She'd forgotten to bring a shirt to change into.

Astrid sighed, buttoning her work shirt back up. She pulled on the leggings—she'd remembered _those_ at least—and then laced her boots up. She'd just have to live with smelling like fish on her way home. 

As she climbed into her truck, she did briefly consider driving home in just her bra—it wasn't like people in town hadn't ever seen her in a bikini top or sports bra before. She decided against it, though. It was just as well that she did; the first sight that greeted her when she turned onto her street was a black sedan, parked on the side of the road, and its owner, who shut the car's trunk as Astrid drove past, then waved at her.

She parked her truck in its spot on the driveway and got out, work bag slung over her shoulder. She turned to see Hiccup walking up the driveway toward her, smiling, his skin a little reddened where he'd obviously gotten some sun. "I was worried I'd have to leave before you got home," he said.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice not entirely unfriendly. 

He pointed toward her front door. "Fixing your steps."

Astrid turned to look. "What?"

"Well, replacing them, actually." Hiccup ruffled his fingers through his hair as she turned back to him. "They weren't quite solid enough to save." 

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked. "Why would you do that?"

He shrugged. "You asked what I could do, and that's"—he nodded toward the stairs—"what I could do."

"Hiccup, I— _that was rhetorical."_

He grinned. "Plus, your landlord paid me to."

"So what, you just called him, like, _you'd better let me fix your tenant's stairs, or else?"_

Hiccup shrugged. "Well, I was a little more tactful than that. But by and large, yeah. It wasn't hard to find his number."

"Oh, my gods," Astrid snapped. She remembered her landlord telling her someone would be coming by to do some work, but she hadn't expected... _this._ Or _him._ "I don't have time for this," she said, turning and walking toward the stairs. 

"Time for what?" Hiccup demanded. "Astrid, I thought you'd be happy." As she trotted up the now-very-solid steps, he called her name again before giving a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

She slammed her front door shut, then immediately peeled off her work shirt, dropping it on the floor in front of the closet that housed her washer and dryer. She shoveled the clean clothes off the loveseat and back into their basket. As she did so, she found the shirt she'd _meant_ to pack that morning, pulling it on over her head just as a knock sounded on the door. 

"Astrid?" a voice called. It was Hiccup. "I have your first-aid kit."

With a deep sigh, Astrid went to the door and pulled it open. Hiccup was standing there, her first-aid kit in one hand. 

"Hey," he said, holding it out to her. 

"Hi." She reached out and took it, their fingers brushing against each other as she did so. "Thanks. And… thank you for fixing the stairs. I'm sorry about before, I'd just had a long day and you kind of caught me off-guard."

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "You don't need to apologize. I'm sorry, I realize that I overstepped."

"It's alright. I'm glad to have working stairs again."

"Is everything okay?"

Astrid smiled ruefully. "Yeah, just work stuff."

"Nothing serious, I hope," he said, and she shook her head. He paused for a second. "I don't suppose that offer of water is still on the table? I'm parched."

For a second, she thought about snapping that he had water at home, but then she reconsidered, stepping back to let him pass through the doorway. "Sure, come on in."

He did so, glancing around at her apartment: the small kitchen overlooking the docks, her double bed with its metal frame, the loveseat and small TV near the door, and her desk, next to a small shelf of marine biology books, plus a few books that she had just for fun. Her laptop was sitting on her desk, closed, with the light of its charger glowing a gentle green. The laptop was the only thing in the apartment that wasn't shabby, secondhand, or both; it had been a gift when she graduated three years ago.

"Nice place," he said.

"Thanks." Astrid pulled a clean glass from the dish rack. “My landlord first got it done as a mother-in-law suite, but then he found himself no longer having a mother-in-law.” Smiling despite herself at the cringe Hiccup gave in response to that, she scooped some ice into the glass from the tray in the freezer and filled it with water from the sink.

"Thank you," Hiccup said as she handed it to him. He drank, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Astrid looked away after a second, her eyes landing on where last night's pajamas still lay on the floor. Hiccup didn't seem to have noticed... but he almost certainly would if she tried to move them out of sight surreptitiously.

He lowered the glass, panting slightly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he met her eyes. "Did you change your shirt?" he asked.

"Yeah, my work shirt smelled like fish. It always does."

Hiccup nodded. "Got it."

Something occurred to her. "Wait, you didn't just do this so I'd agree to—"

But he was already shaking his head. "No, of course not. Believe me, I just wanted to do something nice."

Astrid felt her lips curl in a smile. "Well, this was very nice. Thank you."

He didn't say anything, only taking another sip of water and looking over her shoulder at something. She twisted to follow his gaze.

He was looking at her bed, where the blue cotton sheets were still rumpled, tangled up with the light, fluffy gray coverlet she had on there for the summer, and as she turned back to him, she saw his cheeks flush slightly under the irritated red of his sunburn.

“Do you want some aloe?”

He blinked, surprised. “Sure.”

She went into the bathroom and retrieved the little tube of light green gel from the medicine cabinet, dispensing a small amount onto one fingertip. "Here, shut your eyes," she said, and when he did so, she dabbed the aloe onto the tip of his nose, smiling when he wrinkled his nose. She gently spread it across his face; the sun had really only gotten his nose and the tops of his cheekbones, since her stairs were in the shade most of the day. When she pulled her hand away, he opened his eyes, looking into hers from inches away. Astrid could only stare for a moment, startled at just how green his eyes were; she'd seen that before, of course, but not like this. They widened slightly in surprise as he saw her standing so close, and as Astrid stepped back, glancing down to wipe the excess aloe on her leggings, she thought she saw them dart toward her mouth for just a moment.

"Thanks," he said. 

"Yeah, of course," Astrid said, looking back up at him and smiling softly. "Thank you for fixing my stairs." 

"It's really no trouble," he said lightly. Then, after a moment, he went on in a quite different tone. "Astrid—"

Astrid's smile vanished. "Hiccup, I told you, I can’t."

"I know, and maybe I shouldn’t be asking again." His eyes were fixed on her, their intense green color utterly engrossing, and she found herself unable to look away from him. "I know you don’t think you can go. But I don't know _why._ It’s not that you don't want to, because if that was the case, you would have said so and told me to leave you alone. So what is it? Why can't you go?"

"Why do you care?" she snapped.

"Because you were there with me on one of the most formative days of my life, and I want you with me when I go back out there. Because if it's something that I can fix, I will. Because we saw a damn _dragon,_ Astrid, and I can't begin to comprehend why—"

"Did we, though?" Astrid demanded. "Did we really? Because apart from one thing I saw for ten seconds almost a _decade_ ago, I have never seen any evidence that dragons are real. My parents sent me to a psychiatrist, Hiccup. They thought I'd either become a compulsive liar or started hallucinating. There's no way that could have been a dragon."

He'd been gesticulating as he spoke, half-flailing, but now he took one of her hands in both of his, taking a step toward her. Her whole arm twitched automatically, but she didn't pull her hand away. 

"But it _was,_ Astrid," he said. "I'm absolutely certain of that. I know it's hard to believe. But I've been researching it for _nine years,_ looking for more information, and I've found it. What we saw is real, Astrid, and I want to see it again. With you."

She didn't say anything, just staring at their joined hands. 

"Don't tell me you're scared," he said, slightly teasing now.

Her head snapped up, and she glared at him, boring into his eyes with her own. This close, she could smell him, the musk of his deodorant and the little bit of sweat it hadn't quite been able to keep from seeping through layered over something warm and slightly wild, and all _him._ She knew what he was doing, but all the same, she could feel it working on her as the desire to prove him wrong surged through her. "Of course I'm not scared. Not of you, and not—not of dragons, either."

"Are you sure?" he asked, a challenging, goading light in his eyes as he looked down at her. "Astrid, do you _want_ to go?"

_Yes._ "I don't know."

He let go of her hand, and it fell to her side, her palm feeling empty without his covering it. "Okay," he said. "Just... think about it. Please. I don't want to do this without you, and I think it would do you good to get out of town for a couple weeks."

"How do you know what's good for me?"

He sighed. "I guess I don't. But I think it might help."

Astrid thought he might be right, if how badly she wanted to get out of town was any indication. But whenever she tried to think about the trip, about what it would be like to be out on a boat with Hiccup, land nowhere in sight—and gods, it would be _magical_ —she just kept running up against that word, over and over again: _can't._ She didn't know _why_ any better than Hiccup did; no matter how much she tried to interrogate it, and she had tried to, she couldn't come up with a good reason. It was just _can't,_ repeating endlessly and half-frantically inside her head.

"I don't know," she said quietly, not meaning it as a direct response to what he'd just said, but he seemed to take it that way. 

He stepped back, nodding. "Okay. Do you want me to drop it?"

This time, she was able to say what she was thinking, even if it took her a couple of seconds and a deep breath to do so. "No."

Hiccup smiled. "Alright, then. For right now, though, I think I'd better head home. I need to get cleaned up. Can I get in touch when I have more information?”

Astrid nodded, a little shakily. "Yeah, okay."

His smile widened. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"See you then."

He let himself out. As Astrid listened to his retreating footsteps going down the stairs, she realized he'd been right, even if he'd only been saying it to provoke her.

She was scared. And she _hated_ being scared.

Not least because she didn’t know which possibility she was more scared of: that they wouldn't find anything, and she'd have no proof of what she knew, deep in her bones, she’d seen all those years ago, or that they would find something.

Astrid had seen a dragon, she was sure of it.

She just wasn’t sure if she was ready to see another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you'd like, please leave a comment; feedback is always very welcome, and I'd love to know what you think.
> 
> Stay safe!


	3. Chapter 3

**Nine Years Earlier**

Still damp from the wave the dragon had sent surging over them, Astrid twisted the keys in the boat’s ignition again. There was no response from the engine.

Just as there hadn’t been the last several times she tried.

“Piece of shit!” she hissed, turning the key again and again. The engine made a groaning sort of grinding noise but didn’t turn over. “Godsdammit,” she growled. 

“Hey, take it easy,” Hiccup said. He winced as he stood, though he didn’t look like he was in as much pain as he had been earlier. Sitting for a while had probably helped, she supposed. “Where’s the engine compartment? I’ll take a look.”

“What do you mean, you’ll take a look?” Astrid demanded. “Are you saying you think you can fix it?”

Hiccup arched an eyebrow at her. “It’s an engine, isn’t it? Of course I can fix it.”

Astrid didn’t think this was an _of course_ kind of assumption, but she supposed there wasn’t much he could do to make it worse. So she led him down the narrow, ladder-like stairway into the boat’s cabin, pointing out the low door to the engine compartment.

“Do you have a flashlight I could use?”

“Yeah, of course,” Astrid said. She opened a small storage compartment and pulled out the boat’s emergency flashlight, which was bright enough to be visible from shore, even at this distance. “Oh, and it looks like there’s a wiring kit or something in here. And a toolset.”

“Excellent,” Hiccup said, taking all of it out of her hands. 

“I’ll be up on deck,” Astrid said. “They may try to signal us from the land once they figure out where we are. Call me if you need anything.”

He nodded, already easing himself down onto his knees. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Astrid said, flashing a grin at him, and turned to climb back up onto the deck. The sun had finished setting, and now the last of the day’s light was quickly fading. She curled up in her seat again, training her gaze on the horizon where she could just see the smudged shadow of the coastline. They were a little south of town, she thought, though she wasn’t sure. Idly, she thought about trying to swim for it. She could probably make it, she thought, though not at night. Besides, there was no way Hiccup could do it, and she wasn’t about to leave him out here by himself.

The sea was empty around her, vast and gray and rolling as far as she could see. Which wasn’t terribly far at the moment, though she knew moonrise wasn’t too far off. It was quiet; she couldn’t hear anything but the waves, no whalesong, no dragon roars, no other boats. Of course, she didn’t know what a dragon roar would sound like, or if she’d be able to recognize one even if she heard it. 

All she heard was the ocean itself. It was rhythmic and deep, and to Astrid at least, it was home. As the waves gently rocked the boat, Astrid felt her eyes drift shut.

She woke abruptly as her head fell forward, her chin stopping just shy of hitting her chest, and chided herself for drifting off. She stood and took a lap around the boat’s small deck, breathing in deep lungfuls of the sea air to clear the sleepy cobwebs from her head, then sat down again and began working at her hair with her fingers. It was still a little damp, but it gave her hands something to do so she wouldn’t fall asleep again. She patiently worked the tangles free with her fingers, somehow managing not to snag any of the knots too badly. Astrid had been wearing her hair in a braid for a few months now—appropriately enough, that poetry unit had taken place right before Valentine’s Day—but her fingers didn’t quite know it by heart yet, and the texture of her hair was different enough from the saltwater that it took a couple of tries before she was satisfied with the braid. She felt the tightness in her scalp as she pulled the thick rope of hair forward over her shoulder and knew the braid wasn’t going to be falling out anytime soon.

No one had signaled from shore yet. At a guess, her parents were starting to panic, having begun to worry when they returned home from work and hadn’t found her waiting for them. They were probably looking for her, most likely in her dad’s car, and it wouldn’t be long before they thought to check the docks. 

She could only hope she hadn’t missed the signal when she dozed off.

Astrid decided to check on Hiccup. Still barefoot, she climbed back down into the cabin. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard his voice, but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Only his feet were visible, sticking out from the engine compartment. Getting closer, Astrid realized he was muttering to himself, or maybe the engine, swearing fluently and colorfully. She felt her eyebrows rise, taking note of a few combinations she hadn’t heard before.

“Come on, work with me,” he growled. “Come on, you—” He cut off with a grunt. “Oh. Thank you.” He kept talking to himself, though he sounded a lot happier than he had been. Astrid sat down on one of the seats at the small table to wait. A minute or so later, he turned onto his stomach, and his feet vanished as he got up onto his knees. First the wiring kit, then the toolbox and flashlight came skidding out of the engine compartment. Then Hiccup’s backside appeared as he crawled backward out of the small door. 

His hair had dried, the saltwater giving it more volume so that it was now sticking out slightly, disheveled and just a little wavy at the ends. As he knelt, pushing himself back on his heels and catching sight of her, she saw a greasy handprint smeared across the front of his t-shirt. There was a smudge of grease on one of his cheekbones too.

“How long have you been there?” he asked.

“Just a minute or two,” Astrid said. “Did you fix it?”

“I think so.”

“What was wrong with it?” As he opened his mouth to answer, she said, “Actually, I don’t know if I’d understand even if you told me.”

He shrugged agreeably, shutting the door to the engine compartment with a chuckle. “Fair enough. Want to try to turn her on?” His face turned bright red, eyes going wide with horror. “It. I meant it.”

Barely suppressing a grin, Astrid nodded. “Yeah, let’s see how she does.” 

She turned and scrambled up to the deck, plopping herself down in her seat as Hiccup’s head appeared in the hatch she’d just climbed through. She reached for the keys again, turning them, and finally turned over, settling into a reassuring rumble. Hiccup met her gaze with a satisfied smile, climbing up next to her. The flashlight was still in his hand, hanging at his waist as he looked down at her. 

She giggled, meeting his gaze with a wide smile. “Nice job,” she said.

“Thanks.”

The crescent moon had come up while they were below, and now it illuminated him just enough for her to see the freckles scattered across his face.

Astrid felt like she was being pulled in by the green of his eyes, the way his eyelashes fluttered as he blinked. It was hard to look away from him standing over her. Even after only an afternoon, she’d gotten used to him being shorter than her, and so there was something weirdly novel about looking up at him. He held her gaze for a long moment, a blush creeping up over his face. 

Then a light flickered from shore, making them both whip their heads toward the land. Astrid swallowed panic. There was no order to the light, it wasn’t a signal, just a quick flash to catch her attention. 

She took the flashlight out of Hiccup’s hands and pointed it toward the land, flicking it on and off a few times. Then she paused for a long moment before slowly, deliberately turning it on and back off again in careful patterns.

An answer blinked back at her, and she swallowed at the lump that had formed in her throat. 

“It’s my dad,” she said. “Get out a pencil and paper. I need you to write down the letters I’m going to give you.”

“What?” Hiccup asked, but he unzipped his backpack anyway. 

Astrid resumed flashing the light again, pausing periodically. 

“What are you doing?” Hiccup asked. “Is that Morse code?”

Astrid rolled her eyes “Of course it’s fucking Morse code. Be quiet, I need to focus.”

“Got it, sorry.”

She flickered the light aimlessly for a second, then started the word over again. Hiccup stayed quiet, though in her peripheral vision she could see his gaze going back and forth from her to the land like he was watching a tennis match.

“Okay,” Astrid said after several minutes. “He’ll start replying in just a second. Ready?”

“Ready.” His hand was hovering over a fresh page, holding a pencil. 

The light on the shore started going again, and Astrid began calling out letters, the only other sound on the boat the scratch of Hiccup’s pencil. He sucked in his breath sharply at something he’d just written down, but waited until she gave him the final three letters to speak.

“What does he mean, stay out here?” he demanded. 

“We’ve lost the tide,” Astrid said, taking the paper out of his hand and reading the message. She hadn’t really caught it while she was repeating it to him. The words were all together in a rush, without anything even resembling punctuation, but the message was clear enough:

**_"NO TOO DARK NOT SAFE STOP STAY OUT THERE STOP MORNING TIDE STOP WILL TELL H GRANDMA STOP WAIT FOR DAYLIGHT END"_**

“What does that mean?” Hiccup repeated. 

“We wouldn’t be able to get to the docks if we started heading in now, which means we’d have to land on a beach somewhere, and we don’t have a way of telling my dad where. And I’ve never done the approach at night before. Trying to do it for the first time by myself would be a really bad idea.”

Hiccup nodded slowly, letting out a long breath. He was obviously freaking out, but on the outside, he only said, “Okay.”

“So we’re stuck here until the sun comes up.”

He gave her a lopsided smile, and she noticed he had a gap between his front teeth. “That’s okay. I’ve got some snacks in my bag,” he said. “Besides, there are worse places to have to spend a night.”

* * *

When the weekend rolled around, and Astrid hadn’t heard anything from Hiccup, she decided there was no reason she couldn’t gather a little information of her own.

She set out late Saturday morning, dressed in a lace-edged tank top and denim cutoffs. It was a gorgeously sunny day; the only clouds in the sky were puffy, perfect things scattered across the blue like islands in the sea. As she trotted down her still-new steps, relishing their solidness almost despite herself, Astrid looked over her shoulder to see that the sunlight streaming down was lighting up the ocean waves so they showed blue rather than their usual gray. The sight was exhilarating and half-enticing, making Astrid wish she were out on the water.

As she often did, but it lent a spring to her step nonetheless. This had faded a little by the time she got to Heather’s hardware store, though, and she had to take a deep breath before pushing open the glass-paneled door. 

Heather wasn’t at the register, as Astrid had half-expected her to be. Instead there was a girl Astrid guessed must still be in high school. 

Astrid responded in kind to the girl’s pleasantries and started combing through the store’s aisles, looking for a reason to be there. Wandering through the plumbing section, she speculated that she probably still knew how to make a potato gun, though she didn’t know what she’d do with one once she’d made it. Beyond the obvious, of course.

Fortunately, she was spared having to make a purchase to justify having come into the store when Heather appeared at the end of the aisle, coming around the corner with her head down and a device in one hand. She was punching something into the device with her free hand, and at first she only glanced at Astrid.

“Hey, can I help you find—” she started, but then she stopped short, looking at Astrid properly. “Oh. Hi, Astrid.”

“Hey, Heather.” Astrid swallowed. “How’s it going?” 

“I’m okay,” Heather said. Her eyes flicked over the plastic pipes and joints Astrid was standing in front of, and her lips curved slightly in a smile. “Making another potato gun?”

“I was actually here to see you,” Astrid said, and Heather’s eyebrows rose.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her smile gone now. 

For a moment, Astrid thought about just turning on her heel and leaving. But then she gathered herself.

“I was wondering what you thought about that Hiccup guy,” Astrid said. Heather’s face creased in confusion, and Astrid went on, “You know, the new owner of the cliff house.”

“Oh, I didn’t know he went by Hiccup.”

“I don’t actually think he does,” Astrid said quickly. “I guess it’s what his mom used to call him, but nobody really calls him that anymore.”

“I see,” Heather said, a rather different smile playing across her face now. “Why do you want to know what I think of him?”

Astrid hesitated, then opened her mouth before shutting it again. “I—you remember that kid I got stuck with out on my dad’s boat that one time?”

Heather’s eyes went wide. “Wait. That was _him?”_

Astrid nodded.

“So what, did he ask you out or something?” Heather asked.

“Um,” Astrid said, and then paused. She wasn’t sure how much she could, or ought to, tell Heather about what Hiccup had asked her to do, or why. 

Heather took the opening, though. “He totally did, didn’t he?” she said, giggling. “Astrid, come on, you have to. I mean, have you _seen_ his ass?”

Astrid found herself giggling, and knew she was blushing. “I mean, of course I have,” she said. “But, I mean, you’ve seen him more often than I have since he’s come back. What do you think of him?”

Heather shrugged, grinning. “I don’t know, he seems nice. He’s always really polite when he comes in here.”

“That’s good,” Astrid said. “I mean, would you go out with him?”

Heather chuckled, looking down. “I mean, it’s not like he’s asked.”

As Heather’s gaze met hers again, Astrid felt herself come back to reality. For a moment there, nothing had seemed to have changed between them, like the past several years hadn’t happened. But it all came crashing back as Heather looked at her, and she could see in Heather’s eyes that she was remembering too.

“Hey, do you want to get lunch?” Heather asked. “I can have Sigrid watch the shop for a bit.”

“I think I’d actually better get going,” Astrid said. “Thanks, though, I’ll see you around.”

“Alright then,” Heather said. As Astrid turned to go, though, she said, “Astrid?”

Astrid stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. For—for everything.”

After a moment, Astrid nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

“We should get dinner sometime though,” Heather said. “Like, maybe not right now, but when you have a chance.”

Astrid found a smile was tugging at her lips as she nodded again. “I’d like that.”

Despite this, she wasn’t sure as she left the store whether she’d actually do anything to make this dinner happen. She missed Heather, certainly, more than she would’ve thought it was possible to miss someone when they both lived in a small town with only a couple thousand people. But thinking about actually talking with her again, beyond the conversation they’d just had, especially about what had happened—it took real effort to get her breath past the lump that formed in her throat, whether from worry or sadness, or something else altogether, she wasn’t sure.

Though she’d turned Heather down for lunch, she found she didn’t want to go home just yet. She found a fish and chips food truck that usually catered to the comparatively small amount of tourists that trickled down from the next town up the coast, which was much more of a destination. She ordered her meal and then wandered down onto a walkway overlooking a rocky beach. There was a bench there, and Astrid sat, watching the waves come in. 

Her town wasn’t as aggressively nautical as some coastal towns, didn’t need to push the aesthetic quite as hard as they did for the tourists’ sake. But it was still all white wooden siding decorated with anchors, and after a brief glance over her shoulder, Astrid faced forward again, focusing on the ocean. 

She knew she ought to find her safe, familiar hometown comforting. 

She ought to. But she didn’t. 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she heard footsteps carefully descending the stone steps onto her walkway and looked up, turning to see Hiccup standing a few yards away. He was holding a paper boat that was the twin of the one her fish and chips had come in. 

“Hey,” she said, trying to muster up some friendliness. She wasn’t sure how successful she was.

All the same, Hiccup smiled. “Hi. I guess I just missed you at the hardware store.”

Astrid’s heart leapt into her throat. “Oh, yeah,” she said, forcing a laugh. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

By now, Hiccup had reached her bench. He laughed. “I did, thanks for asking.” He paused. “Mind if I join you? You looked like you might want a lunch buddy.”

“Sure,” Astrid said, gesturing to the bench next to her. She was relieved he hadn’t said anything about her conversation with Heather; maybe Heather hadn’t told him anything. “Be my guest.”

He sat down, taking a bite of fish, and Astrid did the same, finding that it had gone a little cold as she’d been pondering. “Did you get the haddock?” Hiccup asked teasingly. 

Astrid laughed, the sound clear and bright as it rang across the water. “Nope. Cod. You?”

Hiccup grinned. “Halibut.”

“Good choice,” Astrid said. “That was actually probably brought in by one of the guys in that bar you like.”

“The big one with the beard?” Hiccup asked, and Astrid nodded, though she didn't say anything to further identify the fisherman. “Nice, that really narrows it down.”

Astrid snorted. They ate in companionable silence that seemed deeply familiar to Astrid for reasons she couldn’t quite place—until, that is, she realized it was just like the one they’d shared nine years ago, on her dad’s boat, as he was painting. As he was painting her.

She glanced over at Hiccup to find he was looking at her, vivid green eyes level and contemplative as he studied her. His fish and chips container lay empty in his lap, a grease-stained napkin balled up in the bottom. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked after a moment.

“Hmm? Oh.” She paused. “I was just thinking, this reminds me of when we were out on my dad’s boat.”

“Yeah, me too.” He held her gaze for a moment, smiling slightly. 

“Are you still good with engines?” Astrid asked.

Hiccup nodded. “I guess you could say that. Though, again, it’s more of a hobby these days. I mostly just take care of my own car.”

“You’ve got a lot of hobbies,” she remarked. 

He shrugged. “I like working with my hands, and I’m not too picky about what I’m working on.”

Astrid figured that was fair. A smile tugged at her lips, and was answered by one from him. 

“What about earlier?”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“When I first got here. You seemed upset.”

Astrid sighed, looking back out over the ocean. “I don’t know. Sometimes I really hate being here.” 

“In town, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just feel… trapped, I guess. I never meant to spend my life here.”

“Seems like a nice place,” Hiccup said mildly. 

“It is,” Astrid admitted. “But it’s worse when you can’t leave.”

Even as she said it, she realized she was giving Hiccup a golden opportunity to bring up the excursion again—after all, what better way to get out of here than with him? But he didn’t, only shifting on the bench next to her. No doubt he wanted to ask her again to go with him, but she appreciated it more than she could admit even to herself that he didn’t. Not now.

“I know you went to college somewhere else,” he said. “Have you ever left apart from that?”

Astrid brightened; out of her peripheral vision, she saw Hiccup looking at her intently and turned to face him. “Yeah,” she said, smiling. “I got to go to Peru one time.”

“Really? When was that?”

“The summer after we first met,” she said. “When I was seventeen. I went with my school’s Spanish Club.”

“What was it like?” he asked.

“You’ve never been?” she asked.

“No, I’ve never been anywhere in the southern hemisphere.”

“Oh.” It was with more than a little smugness that Astrid registered that _here,_ at least, she had an edge on him.

He listened, rapt, as she told him about the days she’d spent in Cusco, her visits to the farming terraces and salt mines of the Sacred Valley, the days she’d spent hiking Machu Picchu and its neighboring mountain, Huayna Picchu.

“I actually got to swim in one of the tributaries of the Amazon,” she finished. “Like, way before it actually becomes the Amazon, of course.”

His mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

Astrid grinned. “Nope.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the Amazon.” There was a strange, wild look in his eyes, a hunger for adventure that she felt echo inside herself. She knew without asking that he was speculating as to whether there might be dragons in the vast, unexplored regions of the rainforest. No doubt they’d be almost unrecognizable as the same kind of creature he and Astrid had seen.

“Me too,” Astrid said, and a moment of understanding passed between them, as though they were silently agreeing they’d go together one day. It almost frightened her, and it went against everything she had that approximated a plan for the future, but there was no denying the truth of it, or the intensity of that unspoken promise. She kept looking at Hiccup, feeling her face go warm beneath his gaze.

After a minute, though, she looked out over the water again. “Most of all, though, I want to get out of here.”

* * *

She was just getting back to the office after her morning rounds when Eret looked up at her from his desk, a teasing grin on his face.

Astrid sighed. “What, Eret?” she asked flatly. After another escape attempt from Tim the octopus, she was in no mood for his nonsense.

“Who was that guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy I saw you sitting with on the waterfront this weekend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Astrid sat at her desk and logged onto her computer, opening the spreadsheet where she kept her daily observations of the animals.

“Sure you don’t,” Eret said, a laugh still in his voice. He got up and went to the coffee machine in the corner, returning a moment later with a vanilla-flavored espresso drink in Astrid’s favorite mug. He set it down in front of her, and she studied it for a long moment.

“You’re bribing me now to talk about my personal life?”

Eret chuckled. “Not for that. There’s something I want to talk to you about. A work thing.”

Astrid picked up the mug and blew gently on her coffee, swiveling her chair so that she was facing Eret. “I’m listening.”

“I got a call a couple weeks ago from a guy,” he began.

“So it’s _your_ personal life.”

“A work call,” he insisted, smiling despite himself. “Apparently he’s independently wealthy, and he wants to fund a scientific expedition for the Institute.”

“What’s the catch?”

“He wants to go too.”

“Hmm.” Astrid sipped her coffee. “So what did you tell him?”

“To call me back when he had more information,” Eret said. “I just heard from him while you were on your rounds. It sounds like he’s made pretty thorough preparations, just about as far as he can go without our involvement.”

“What kind of an expedition?”

“Probably just a couple of people, in a boat he would provide. They’d be out there for a couple weeks. He says he’s mostly going for personal curiosity, but he’d be willing to share his data with us. It’s a rare opportunity; you know as well as I do that we don’t get to do expeditions that often.”

Astrid couldn’t remember the last time the Institute had put on an excursion of that scale. “But why doesn’t he just go himself?”

“He needs an expert,” Eret said. “A scientist who’s studied marine biology. And an experienced boat pilot.” She caught on to where he was going with this a second before he said, “Which would rather suggest you.”

Astrid scoffed. “I’m hardly an expert.”

Eret shrugged. “You know these waters better than I do. You’ve lived here your entire life, after all. I wouldn’t be bringing it up if I didn’t think you could do it.”

She had to concede that she was probably the best person for the job. “He’s not a creeper, is he? Some old guy who’s just trying to get a lady scientist on her own out on the water?”

He chuckled. “No, he seemed decent enough. Sounded young. Sounded cute, actually.”

Astrid smirked, and Eret rolled his eyes.

“He didn’t even mention you,” he said. “I looked him up, and apparently he just got his doctorate. Nothing untoward that I could find. You know I wouldn’t even entertain the idea if I didn’t think you’d be safe.”

Realization was starting to dawn on Astrid. “He’s a doctor? What does he need me for?”

He shrugged. “Not that kind of doctor.”

Astrid furrowed her brow, taking a long sip of her coffee before speaking again. “What did you say his name was?”

When her brain caught up with her, she was standing on the front porch of the cliff house, pounding on the door. “Hiccup!” she shouted.

She wasn’t sure why she was so angry, but she was. Indignation burned inside her, wrath that he’d circumnavigated her in planning this trip. She didn’t remember the last time she’d been this furious with anyone.

“Hiccup!” she called again. “Get out here!” After a moment she heard his footsteps approaching the door.

He pulled it open, looking at her with alarm in his eyes. “Astrid? What’s going on?” 

“You called my boss?” she demanded. “You went behind my back?”

Hiccup held his hands up, palms facing outward. He didn’t bother denying it. “I thought it would be good to get an institution involved, so we’d have an excuse for being out there.”

“No,” Astrid insisted. “This is between you and me. How dare you get my job involved?”

“Astrid, would you please just listen to me?” he said. “Just give me a minute.”

She scowled at him for a long moment, then nodded grudgingly.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go behind your back. I was just trying to get information, like I said I was going to, and I thought Eret would be a good place to start. Working with the Wilderwest Institute will make it a legitimate scientific excursion, not just some rich asshole dicking around. And getting more data for them will also genuinely be a good thing, am I right?” She nodded again. “Okay. So we’re agreed on that. And it’ll make sure you get paid for the time we’re away. The last thing I want is for you to take a hit.”

In her surprise that he’d thought of that, Astrid’s mouth opened and closed several times. He was making good points, damn him. Much as she hated to admit it, it made sense. He was right—it would be much easier to justify their presence with the Institute’s backing.

“There’s nothing saying we have to tell them everything we find,” Hiccup was saying. “If it’s just the two of us, we’re in control of the information. And come on, Astrid, where’s your sense of adventure? Just think—”

“Fine,” Astrid snapped. 

“What?” Hiccup asked, though a thunderstruck, ecstatic grin was spreading across his face. 

“Fine,” she said again. “I’m going.”

He kept grinning broadly, as though he couldn’t contain his glee. “Oh my gods, that’s fantastic. Why don’t you come in and—”

“No,” Astrid said. “Let’s get one thing straight. When we’re on the water, I’m in charge.”

“What do you mean?” He hadn’t stopped smiling.

“I’m in charge,” she repeated. “I decide where we go, and I control the ship. If I decide it’s too dangerous, or I just don’t want to be out there anymore, we turn back.”

“Okay,” Hiccup said. His smile hadn’t wavered in the slightest, and Astrid had the feeling this was the least he’d agree to if it meant her going with him.  
“Can you have us ready to leave this weekend?” she asked. “Get food and everything?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hiccup said, a definite note of smugness entering his smile

Biting back irritation, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to Eret.” She took a step toward him. “And don’t you dare try to cut me out of the conversation again.”

His smile vanished. “Astrid, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Just have the boat ready.” She turned and walked down the steps, getting back in her truck. She hadn’t turned it off when she got there, too angry and too urgent in her need to talk to him, and so it was just a matter of shifting back into gear before she was heading down the driveway and onto the coastal road.

She kept wrestling with herself as she drove—not back to the institute, but home. She still wasn’t completely sure why she’d agreed to go, whether it was for Hiccup or for the dragons. Or, perhaps, just for an excuse to get out of town.

Whatever the reason, she’d agreed to it. And so she was going.

Another Saturday morning rolled around. It found Astrid walking along the sloping road down to the docks, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a neutral expression fixed on her face. It was hard to keep it there; almost despite herself, and despite the anger she was still feeling toward Hiccup, excitement was bubbling up inside her with every step.

It had been far too long since she’d been on a boat.

Hiccup was standing in front of one of the boats, a pretty little red-hulled sloop with fore-and-aft rigging that would make it easier to sail into the wind, should they need to. She‘d glimpsed it from her kitchen window earlier that morning, and even then a part of her had hoped this was their— _his_ —boat. There was an outboard motor too, which she figured was a good precaution to take. She still wasn’t terribly sure what Hiccup had planned, though she supposed she’d have to make sure he wasn’t thinking of doing anything too mutton-headed.

Hiccup spotted her, waving one hand over his head as she approached. His grin faded slightly as he saw the look on her face. He walked toward her, meeting her halfway. “Hey there, Captain.”

“Good morning,” Astrid said.

“Can I take your bag?” he asked, walking alongside her toward the boat. 

“No, I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

Hiccup sighed, then stepped into Astrid’s path, making her stop short. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, raising his hands as though to rest them on her shoulders, though he let them fall again when she glanced down at them. “I don’t want you on this boat unless you _want_ to come.”

“I’m going, Hiccup,” Astrid said, her voice betraying both her excitement and her trepidation more than she would’ve liked.

He barely suppressed a grin. “Alright then. I’ll show you the boat.”

There wasn’t much to show, just a small deck with a pair of padded benches facing each other and an old-fashioned ship’s wheel. Farther along the deck, there was a pair of swiveling seats like the ones on her dad’s boat. A hatch opened onto a narrow, ladderlike stairway that led down into a small room. There was a U-shaped bench around a table. To one side, there was a counter with a sink, a small stove, a coffee pot, and a microwave. Next to that was a good-sized mini-fridge with a separate door for the freezer compartment.

“Bedrooms are that way,” Hiccup said, pointing toward the bow.

“You mean the berths.”

“And that door is the bathroom.”

“That would be the head,” she corrected him. 

“There’s a shower,” he said. “Or is there a fancy ship word for that too?”

Astrid pretended to think about it. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, do you think it will do?” he asked.

Astrid nodded, turning away so he couldn’t see her smile, and set her bag down on one of the benches around the table. “Should do quite nicely. I trust you’ve stocked us up with plenty of food and fresh water?”

“Of course,” Hiccup said. “And you’re sure you can sail it?”

Astrid turned to him, finally letting him see her smirk. “It’s a boat, isn’t it? Of course I can sail it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of housekeeping: this is probably obvious, but I’ve rather fallen off my usual Saturday upload schedule. I’m going to be suspending it for the time being, and just posting when I have something ready to go. I’ve taken a bit of a mental health hit, and trying to keep a strict upload schedule wasn’t helping. I’m not fully on hiatus, but I am going to be trying to put less pressure on myself. I’m hoping to get back to normal once things have calmed down a little. 
> 
> Well, that’s done.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like, please leave a comment; feedback is always greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, welcome back!
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments and support on the last chapter. Sorry I haven’t responded to them individually, but know that I have read and cherished each and every one.

Astrid woke to the briny smell of the sea. 

This wasn’t unusual—living only a few hundred feet from the ocean as she did, that smell was practically ubiquitous to her, and she would register it as an absence if she ever stopped smelling it. No, what was unusual, what surprised Astrid as she stretched and forced her to take mental stock of where she was exactly, was the way the waves were gently rocking her and how close the walls were on either side of her narrow bunk.

Then, as she woke up more, she started to remember. She and Hiccup had left town the morning before on his boat and sailed out of sight of land, far beyond where they’d gone as children, and only stopped when the light started to fade. Hiccup had made them dinner—or, more accurately, warmed up dinner that he’d made before they left. As he’d taken the glass containers out of the fridge, microwaving each one and chatting to her about the meals that were still waiting for them in the freezer, Astrid had found herself absurdly annoyed at just how _good_ Hiccup was. At everything—at carpentry, at mechanics, at prosthetic design, and now, apparently, at cooking. 

But that had faded as they’d dug into the food, because someone who could make reheated chicken parmesan taste like _that_ was not someone she thought she could stay angry with for very long. Especially not over something as silly as being good at things. Other things, sure. But not that.

They hadn’t seen any dragons. Of course, Astrid hadn’t expected to—it would be ludicrous to think they’d spot their quarry on their first day out. Still, though, her heart had leapt into her throat at the sight of every whale they’d seen. And they’d seen a fair few.

Astrid crawled out of her bunk and changed out of her pajamas, pulling on a blue cotton t-shirt and leggings. Leaving her feet bare, she left her berth, closing the door behind her. Hiccup’s door was shut as well; he would be up on deck, having stood the second of the night’s two watches.

After brushing her teeth, she headed up to the deck, blinking into the already-bright morning light. Hiccup was sitting in one of the swiveling seats, sipping from a mug with what looked like an unusually thick magazine spread out on the table in front of him. 

“Morning,” he said, smiling at her. 

“Hi.”

“There’s coffee if you want it.” He gestured to the half-full French press sitting next to his magazine. “I’ve got breakfast downstairs, but I wanted to wait for you to get up before I ate.”

“I usually just have a smoothie for breakfast,” Astrid said.

For a second, Hiccup looked crestfallen, but then he seemed to remember something. “Oh, yeah. That’s right, Eret mentioned that. I made sure to stock up on frozen fruit and protein powder. And a blender; I didn’t figure you’d bring yours.”

Astrid drew her brows together. He was far too chatty for this early in the morning. “How was your watch?”

Hiccup shrugged. “All quiet. The sun started coming up an hour ago, so I thought I’d read my medical journal up here in the fresh air.”

“Hmm.” Astrid held up her hairbrush, which she’d brought with her onto the deck. “I had a similar thought.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Hiccup gestured to the seat opposite him. 

Instead, Astrid walked aft, to one of the benches on either side of the wheel. She sat, curling her legs up underneath herself, and looked out over the water. She started pulling the brush through her hair, breathing in deep lungfuls of the fresh, wet, salty air, smiling to herself despite the way the tangles in her hair were pulling. 

It was incredible how free she felt. Nothing had really changed, she knew that—she still had to go back, after all—but just being out of town made it feel like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was all she could do not to giggle with the sheer relief of it. But that wouldn’t do, not with Hiccup sitting right behind her. 

It had been so long since she’d felt like this, she almost couldn’t believe it. The weight of being trapped and _knowing_ she was trapped hadn’t fallen on her all at once when she returned to town; rather, it settled over her slowly, on a scale of months, as it became clear her mom wasn’t going to get better and she’d slowly come to realize that everything she’d worked for since leaving for college, the hope she’d had of settling down somewhere new, on her own, wasn’t going to work out. She almost hadn’t realized, with how slowly it had descended on her, how heavy the burden of that realization was—until now, when she was free of it, even if only temporarily. The relief was almost indescribable, and looking out over the waves, she felt a kind of joy she hadn’t in years.

She braided her hair, her fingers deft with long years of practice. Pulling a hair tie off her wrist, she wound it around the end of the braid and ran her hand along its length before letting it fall heavily against her back. She looked around at Hiccup, smile still lingering on her lips, but stopped short at the look on his face.

He was staring at her, eyes and cheeks burning and his lips pressed tightly together. One hand held his coffee mug suspended halfway to his mouth; one finger of the other was slipped between two pages of his medical journal, as though he’d glanced up at her while turning the page and hadn’t been able to look away. How long had he been watching her?

The smile fell away from her face. “What?”

“Nothing.” Hiccup cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the contents of his mug. “I, uh—sorry. Ready for breakfast?” 

“Sure,” Astrid said.

“Alright.” He drained the mug and stood, taking his medical journal with him as he crossed to the hatch that led down to the cabins, and Astrid looked back out across the waves. “I’ll be right back.” From below, she heard the refrigerator door open and close again, then a series of clatters—small appliances, she thought—followed by a loud grinding noise that must be the blender he’d mentioned.

As a door opened and shut below, the thought occurred to Astrid that she should go help him. It sounded like he was finished with her breakfast, though, which left only his, and she didn’t know what he was eating. At the very least she could help bring the food up, she decided, and got up to head downstairs.

She reached the bottom of the steps at the same time that the door to the head opened right next to her and Hiccup stepped out, wiping his hands dry on the front of his jeans. 

“Oh hey,” he said nervously, sidestepping so he wouldn’t walk directly into her. All the same, as the door to the head shut behind him, she found herself looking up into his face, so close that she could smell the lingering scent of hand soap on him. 

“Hey,” Astrid said. “I just came down to see if you need help with breakfast.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” He glanced toward the small kitchen area. “I think I’ve got everything under control, though.”

“Okay,” she said, a little breathlessly. She held up her hairbrush. “I’ll just drop this off in my room and then help you take it up when it’s ready.”

“Okay,” he replied. 

Despite this, neither of them moved for a few moments, just looking at each other in the cramped space. Hiccup shifted his weight as though he was about to take a half-step toward her, his hand rising—

And then they both jumped as the toaster popped. Hiccup stepped back, laughing sheepishly at himself, and Astrid couldn’t help but smile back when he glanced at her, grinning. She stayed in place, watching as he pulled slices of bread from both of the toaster’s slots, transferring them onto a plate. It wasn’t until he glanced toward her again, opening the fridge to retrieve a jar of jam, that she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. 

She opened the door to her berth and tossed her hairbrush onto her bed. Shutting the door, she turned back toward Hiccup and watched as he scraped jam across the surface of his toast.

She found herself preoccupied with the slight uncertainty in his movement as he started to move toward her, the tenderness in his hand as it had come toward her face, and had to admit to herself that she’d been disappointed when the toaster had finished before he could do whatever it was he was about to. 

Hiccup turned back toward her, his plate of toast in one hand and her smoothie in the other. The color was high in his cheeks, but he didn’t meet her eyes. Astrid took the smoothie and climbed the steps back up onto the deck, looking over her shoulder to see Hiccup following more slowly. She sat down in the seat he’d first indicated for her, and a moment later he joined her, sitting down across from her. She sipped from her smoothie, and after a second he took a bite of his toast.

“Is that a local jam?” she asked. 

She’d caught him mid-chew; his eyebrows shot up, and, nodding, he held up a hand to awkwardly shield his mouth, though he didn’t actually start talking until he’d swallowed. “Oh, uh, yeah. Turns out Phlegma, that lady who owns the diner, has a side business.”

Astrid nodded, taking another swallow of her smoothie. “I thought I recognized the label, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Have you had it before?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while, though.”

He grinned, holding out the untouched piece of toast. “Want a bite?”

Astrid giggled. “I’m okay. Thanks, though.” She paused. “You know, I actually used to work for Phlegma. Just at the diner, though, I didn’t really get involved with the jam.”

“You did?” he asked, seemingly amazed. 

She nodded. “Yeah, to pay my parents back for the Peru trip. They were fine spotting me for it, but they wanted to make sure I felt the satisfaction of earning it for myself. Or something like that.”

Hiccup chuckled. “So you would’ve been seventeen then?”

“Yup. And Phlegma had just gotten into her whole Fifties shtick, so I had to wear this, like, poodle skirt thing. At least she let me keep my hair in a braid.”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t remember the waitresses who are working there now dressing to a theme.”

Astrid shook her head. “No, it was a short-lived shtick.”

Hiccup snorted.

“But my friends never let me hear the end of it. Especially Heather.”

His eyes were dancing with mirth. “She teased you?”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Endlessly.”

Hiccup made an appreciative noise as the last of the toast disappeared down his throat. “Gods, that’s good. Better than anything you can get in the city. It kind of makes me glad I moved out here.”

The words twisted in Astrid’s stomach like a fist, and she felt the easy playfulness of the last few minutes vanish like an unsuspecting fish nabbed by a predator blending into the ocean floor. She forced a smile as she drank down the rest of her smoothie. “Can I ask you something?” she said, wanting to get the subject safely away from the benefits of small-town life.

When she looked back at Hiccup, he looked deeply frustrated with something—not her, she didn’t think—but he nodded. “Sure.” 

“That Ingerman guy you were talking about, who told you what the Thunderdrum was called. How’d you find him?”

He shrugged. “Well, a few years ago, I decided to try to start looking for dragons in earnest. Most of what I found was, you know, fantasy novels and films and things, and this one really weird anime—like, weird even for anime, I mean—and when I turned to historical records—well, historical—” he raised his hands to make huge quotation marks in the air “—it was all stuff like Saint George and Sigurd and the dragon at the end of _Beowulf.”_ He took a sip of coffee. “By then, I was just about done with my master’s degree, and I had access to a lot of academic journals and things. So I started getting very into finding and reading medieval chronicles, scouring them for any mentions of dragons that weren’t connected to saints or heroes or some such fucking thing. And then—well, I honestly kind of stumbled across it, this praise poem for a Viking warlord named Ragnar who ended up settling in Ireland. And I know,” he said, holding up a hand, “that there were _a lot_ of Viking warlords named Ragnar who ended up in Ireland, but he wasn’t one of the important ones. But this poem, which his descendants had commissioned, talked about him fighting people who rode on dragons and came from a village called Berk.”

“Berk?” Astrid asked, drawing her brows together. 

Hiccup nodded. “So I had a clue. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I started looking into it.”

“Wait, isn’t that rhyming slang for—”

Laughing, he nodded again. “Which is the first thing I found when I googled it. But I kept looking, and eventually I found a historical site that might have been the original Berk, on this island in an archipelago in the northern Atlantic. And then I found New Berk.” He paused, perhaps to give her space for an exclamation, but she didn’t say anything. “It’s incredibly remote, and honestly has shockingly little contact with the rest of the world. But they do have a historical society, and more importantly”—he held up a finger—“they have internet.”

“So what did you do?” 

He shrugged. “I emailed the head archivist of the historical society.”

“That Ingerman guy?” 

“Yeah. Fishlegs.”

_”Fishlegs?”_

“You’re on a boat with a guy called Hiccup.”

“Yeah, but that’s not your _name.”_

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t know for sure that’s his given name either. But it’s what’s listed on the website, and it’s how he introduced himself. We emailed back and forth a couple of times, and then I told him what we saw, that day on your dad’s boat.” He hesitated, watching her as though wary of how she might react to being reminded of the dragon. But even that was easier, out here on the water. “And I told him how I’d found New Berk.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything for a long time. It was weird; before that, he’d responded to my messages within a day or two. But it took almost a week for him to write back, and when he did, he was really cagey. But we kept talking, and I think he caught on to the fact that I wasn’t trying to threaten either New Berk or the dragons. He told me that what we saw matched up to a legend his people had about a certain kind of dragon called a Thunderdrum, but then it slipped out—and I’m not sure he meant to tell me this—that the Thunderdrum is only one species out of dozens that they used to have regular interactions with.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah.” Hiccup took a deep breath. “Apparently no one on New Berk has seen a dragon in over a thousand years.”

_”What?”_

He only nodded.

“You’re telling me you and I are the first people to see a dragon in _a thousand years?”_

“As far as I can tell.”

“But… why us? And where have they been?”

“I have no idea why it was us,” Hiccup said. “My guess is, it’s a coincidence. But as for where they’ve been…” He paused, a slow grin spreading across his face. “There’s a legend the New Berkians have, that they’ve handed down for generations, of a place called the Hidden World, hidden somewhere beneath the sea. No one’s ever found it, but a thousand years ago, the dragons vanished, and they think that’s where they went.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Astrid said.

Still grinning, Hiccup shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

“And you’ve waited this long to tell me—”

“—because it sounds insane, yes.”

“And Fishlegs told you all this?”

“Eventually.” He paused. “It did speed things along a little when I showed up on New Berk.”

“You _went to New Berk?”_

He nodded. “Over spring break last year.”

Last year. He’d been planning this since _last year._

Since before her mother had died.

That hit her like another punch to the gut, but she forged on. “And… and so he just told you everything.”

“Well, no, I don’t think so,” Hiccup said. “Not everything. He’s not the best at lying—he’s this big blonde guy who shows everything on his face, basically what you’d expect from a Viking archivist—and I could see there was something he wasn’t telling me, but I couldn’t get it out of him. Which is fair—I mean, if a random guy shows up on the island where you protect the history of not only your ancestors but an entire group of species that officially hasn’t even been discovered, you’re not gonna tell him everything. It was weird, though.”

“What was weird?”

“The town. It’s absolutely _covered_ in dragon decor. Which, I mean, sure, a place settled by Vikings that’s been continuously occupied since Viking times is going to have some dragon stuff, but this was _a lot._ And it showed all the different kinds of dragon too, not just the Thunderdrum.”

“How many different kinds are there?”

“Tons,” Hiccup said. “They’ve got a whole book of them, what they call the Book of Dragons. It’s absurdly old, of course, and there’s only one copy.”

“Have you seen it?” Astrid asked, breathless. 

He nodded. “Only briefly, though. It’s incredibly delicate, too much so to be handled, and when I offered to digitize it, Fishlegs refused. He said it was because it would fall apart if we tried, but I think he didn’t want to risk information about the dragons getting onto the internet.”

“They’re protecting them.”

“I think so.” 

“Do you think he was telling the truth about not having seen dragons since they disappeared into the Hidden World?”

Hiccup paused, then shrugged. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t be. It does kind of make you wonder how many of the legends we know are actually true, though. Apparently there’s this one species called a Monstrous Nightmare that’s the closest to stereotypical depictions of Western dragons.”

“Sounds appropriate,” Astrid remarked. 

He chuckled. “Right?” 

She grinned back at him for a moment. The breeze coming off the ocean ruffled his hair, and Astrid found her eyes drawn to its movement as it brushed over his forehead and into his eyes. After a second, she realized she’d been staring—though Hiccup didn’t appear to mind—and cleared her throat. “This is a nice boat,” she said.

He smiled, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, I’m really pleased with how it came out.”

“Wait, you made it?”

“Well, no,” Hiccup admitted. “But I did have it made. I had to; I mean, how many boats have you seen with grab bars in the bathroom and next to the stairs?” 

“Well, none,” Astrid said. “But then again I haven’t been on a yacht before either.”

“This isn’t a yacht,” Hiccup protested.

“It definitely is.”

“But yachts are like… rich asshole boats.”

“Says the self-described rich asshole.”

Hiccup pouted, and Astrid couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. In an instant, the expression on his face turned to one of utter delight. It was only there for a moment before he got his face under control and smiled at her, but it made her wonder—had she really been so prickly when he first got here that a _giggle_ was cause for that kind of reaction?

“So what do you think we should do today?” she asked.

“Well, you’re the captain. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “I mean, there’s no point in making unilateral decisions. You’ve been planning this thing for years, and you know more about dragons.”

“That’s true,” Hiccup said. “Okay then. So one thing I noticed was that the Thunderdrum didn’t come up to us, or at least it didn’t show itself, until after the engine of your dad’s boat had been shut off for a long time.”

“Is that why this is a sailboat?”

He nodded. “I don’t know if it didn’t like the sound, or registered it as a threat, or what, but I wanted to remove that variable. And I was thinking, the best way to attract a dragon, from what we’ve seen, is just to get to a place where no other humans are and stay there for a while, until it gets curious.”

“Basically fishing for dragons.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “I’m guessing we aren’t going to find anything in major shipping lanes, which means we’ll need to go pretty far out to sea. So I think for today, the best thing might be to just spend the full day traveling west again, so we’re really out in the middle of nowhere.”

“This is starting to feel like we’re hunting Bigfoot,” Astrid said. 

Hiccup sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” He looked up and caught sight of her grin, smiling in response. She stood, leaning over to grab his plate and picking up her smoothie cup. “I’ll take these down. Do you remember how to raise anchor and start getting the sails ready?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

By the time she came back up on deck, he’d gotten the head of the mainsail into its track and attached the halyard. She checked his work, of course, but he’d done a good job, and he grinned when she shot him an approving look, evidently enjoying the praise. “Alright, now keep the halyard in hand and climb up on the foredeck there,” she said, pointing, and he obeyed, a little awkwardly because of his prosthetic leg. “Okay. Now I’m going to start undoing the sail ties, and when I say, pull like hell on the halyard. We want to get the sail up as quickly as we can.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

After checking that the backstay was tight and the main sheet wouldn’t let the boom swing _too_ wildly, Astrid edged along the length of the boom and undid the first of the sail ties. “Okay, go,” she said, and Hiccup leaned back, giving the line a long, sustained pull as Astrid undid the other sail tie. Seconds later, the mainsail was unfurled above their heads, luffing in the wind.

“Excellent work,” Astrid said, and Hiccup glowed at the praise. “Now come on back, and let’s adjust the main sheet.” He clambered down and crossed the cockpit toward her. “Let me show you,” she said. “Look at the sail. You see how it’s too much? We’re just going to fall off the wind a little bit”—she tightened the main sheet a little as he glanced down to watch—“then let it catch… and there we go.” She grinned. “Simple. And now that we’ve fallen off the wind, we can let it out.” She did so, letting the boom swing over the side of the boat. “Now for the jib. I’ll do that since it’s a lot of scrambling around on the foredeck. I’m sure you could, but it’s honestly not incredibly safe at the best of times.”

His lips pressed together a little, but he only nodded, and Astrid climbed up onto the foredeck. Checking the halyard was securely fastened to the jib, she quickly raised it, looping the line neatly as she got back down onto the main deck. 

She turned to face Hiccup, who was looking out over the waves, the color high in his cheeks, a slightly breathless smile spreading over his face. “I get it now,” he said.

“Get what?”

“That whole thing about how a ship is freedom.”

Astrid laughed, though she couldn’t blame him in the slightest. She agreed with him, even; being out on the water like this, watching the waves vanish beneath them as the wind propelled them forward and the lines around them creaked steadily—yes, this was the most free she’d felt in a long, long time.

Hiccup looked at her, grinning, and she felt the breath catch in her throat at the utter beauty of the happiness in his face. His eyes were gleaming, the fresh, bright green lighting up in a way she’d never seen before, and he looked like he was just barely biting back a laugh of pure joy.

Astrid couldn’t help but smile back. Her heart was light, and there was a strange fluttering in her stomach that only redoubled as Hiccup kept looking at her, his eyes burning with something she couldn’t quite place. 

She sat, reaching for the jib sheet, and pulled it taut. The boat responded at once, sending them speeding across the gray ocean waves, and Astrid breathed in deep. It almost felt heightened in her chest somehow, like she was just about to take flight.

Things really were different on a boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a... weirdly happy chapter for this fic? Hope you liked it—there's a little bit of tension, some banter, a good old-fashioned infodump, and, of course, possibly some light timeline fuckery.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have updated the tags on this fic, so if you haven't already, please review them. Nothing too dramatic has changed, but it's still worth taking a look.

Things started going wrong the next night at dinner. 

The morning started off well enough; they turned south, that second morning out, and ran parallel to the coast, though they were miles and miles too far away now to even see its shadow on the eastern horizon. Halfway through the morning, Astrid spotted a patch of the distinctive orange of whale excrement, not too far off the starboard bow. With no more safety equipment than Hiccup hanging onto the back of her shirt, she lay flat over the foredeck and reached down and scooped some up in a container which, though it had once stored food, would never again serve that purpose.

She could tell from the look on Hiccup’s face that he didn’t quite get her enthusiasm over the find—and really, there was no reason he should; he had no context for what a valuable ecological marker whale poop could be—but all the same, he couldn’t seem to keep a smile off his face as she grinned at him over the tub of orange goo.

Later that afternoon, it was his turn for delight, as he shouted for Astrid’s attention and then pointed at the small pod of dolphins that had discovered the boat. For just a second, as Astrid followed the direction he was pointing in, her heart leapt into her throat, thinking they might have finally found another dragon.

But no, of course not. 

All the same, she couldn’t help but laugh as they leapt playfully out of the water, following the boat for the better part of the afternoon before losing interest. At one point, as Astrid was adjusting the main sheet, one rose out of the water only feet from her face, startling a laugh out of her, and to one side, she heard the click of a shutter. She turned to see Hiccup standing there, a camera held up in front of his face. She grinned widely at him, and returning the smile, he snapped another several photos.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Stunning. Good work, girls.” Astrid couldn’t help but laugh at that, and as she did, the dolphin cackling beside her, she heard the click of the shutter one more time.

When she looked back to him, Hiccup was lowering the camera, his characteristic lopsided smile spreading across his face. There was a certain softness in his eyes as he looked at her, and as he turned away, zipping the camera back into its case, she felt warmth spreading across her face. 

As the day wore on, though, Astrid started to feel an odd tightening in her chest, like something was tugging at the inside of her ribs. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder to the northeast, back the way they’d come, anxiety building every time she looked no matter how often she tried to tamp it back down. Despite herself, she was worried about how things were going in town. 

“What’s wrong?” Hiccup asked, setting her food down in front of her. They were eating in the boat’s main cabin since it had started raining after threatening to do so for several hours. It was earlier than Astrid usually ate dinner, but Hiccup had to be in bed early to get up for his watch. She wasn’t sure how much sleep he was actually getting, though, and when she met his eyes, he looked tired. “You seem preoccupied.”

She sighed, picking up her fork. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just worried about my dad.”

He took a bite of his food. “Why?”

Astrid shrugged. “It’s just… I haven’t been away from him for this long in… a while. Since Mom died.” Her breath caught on the last words, and she took a breath to cover it. “He’s not used to being on his own.”

“He’s seemed fine while helping me with the garden,” Hiccup said. “Or, more accurately, while I’ve been helping him. Are there issues I don’t know about?”

“No, it’s just—” she started, then stopped.

“Just the grief?”

She nodded.

Hiccup sighed. “Look, this is going to sound heartless, but he’s not going to get better until you give him a reason to.”

She met his gaze, brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not saying you should abandon him or anything, and just for the record, this—” he gestured expansively “— _definitely_ isn’t abandoning him, but have you considered that he might depend on you so much because you let him depend on you?”

“Are you saying he’s taking advantage of me?” Astrid demanded.

“Of course not,” he said.

“And I never said he—” 

“I know you didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “But I’ve seen that kind of thing before. My dad did the exact same thing until I moved out to go to grad school and he had to start working on himself.”

The anger that had been building was washed away, and Astrid gaped at him. “Your… what do you mean, your dad did the same thing?”

Utter mortification flashed across his face. “Gods,” he breathed. “You didn’t know. Yeah, my mom died when I was fifteen.”

“I’m so sorry.” She looked down, not sure where to look but not wanting to see that all-too-familiar pain in his eyes. Then she remembered something, and her eyes snapped back to his. “A year. You said it had been a year since you hurt your leg.”

He nodded, jaw tight. “Almost to the day.”

“But it wasn’t just—” Now his eyes fell. “I’m sorry.”

Hiccup shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s just—I assumed everyone knew. But I guess I was wrong about that one too.” 

“I’m guessing my parents just didn’t tell me,” Astrid said. “I mean, your mom was from town, right? People had to have known.”

He nodded. “That was my reasoning too.” He took a few bites of food, and Astrid did the same. “You know, you kind of remind me of her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re both smart, both independent. You both love animals. And neither of you could wait to get out of your hometown.” 

That startled a laugh out of Astrid, and Hiccup met her eyes with a crooked half-smile.

“Does it still hurt?” 

His face sobered. “Sure. I mean, of course. But… it’s hard to explain. I guess it’s kind of like an old injury. If you take care of it and give it time, eventually fewer and fewer things set it off. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. 

“For a long time, the only time it stopped hurting as bad was when I was painting. It wasn’t a distraction, exactly, but it gave me something to focus on that wasn’t… that.”

Astrid nodded again. “I should probably try to find something like that.”

“Could help.”

“Was that how you got into making things?”

“Kind of.” He considered as he chewed. “I started painting when I was really little. My mom actually taught me. Then I got into pottery. My freshman year of high school, I decided to try out shop class and started wood-working, and then when I was fifteen my uncle Gobber started letting me help out in his garage.”

“Sorry, your uncle what?”

Hiccup chuckled. “Gobber. He’s not actually my uncle, but he and my dad are so close he might as well be. After the accident, my dad didn’t really know what to do with me. Which is why I spent the summer out here that one year, but before that I spent a lot of time working on cars and different kinds of engines. Gobber’s an amputee as well, so that helped with that too.”

 _The accident,_ Astrid thought, must be referring to his mother’s death. But it was probably better not to say that.

“And when I found out about your mom, I was hoping I’d be able to help you.”

“Why?” Astrid was suddenly uncomfortable again.

He shrugged. “I had a bunch of people who helped me when I was in your shoes. _You_ helped me a lot.”

“How?” she asked. “I didn’t even know what was going on.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Hiccup said. “Everyone else treated me like I was delicate, but you just acted like normal. Like I was kind of a loser, sure, but normal.”

“But you thought I knew, right?” He nodded. “So what, you just thought I was unusually good at dealing with other people’s grief at sixteen?”

“Or unusually bad.”

“Hey!” He laughed as he smacked his arm, and she smiled too. That smile faded, though, as he kept talking.

“But yeah, I thought that since I’d been through the same thing, or at least something similar, I could probably make it easier on you. And I’m happy to do whatever you need. Even if it’s just being a listening ear.”

“Is that why you invited me on this trip?”

He shrugged. “Kind of. But mostly I just wanted to spend the time with you.”

“And the dragons, right?”

His lips quirked in a smile. “Well, yes. And the dragons.”

“I’m glad to be out here.”

“Me too.” He paused for a second. “Can I ask you something?” 

Astrid was instantly wary. “Sure.” 

“Why do you hate town so much?” 

“I…” She paused. “I’m not completely sure. I don’t think it’s totally rational.”

“That’s okay,” he said, smiling a little at her.

“It’s too small, for one thing.”

“So would you rather be in a city?”

“I’m not sure. It might not even really be a size thing. It just… it feels like everyone there _knows._ About everything. My mom, and all the stupid shit I did as a kid, and…”

“Old Bartholomew.”

Gods, she hated that name. She nodded, tight-lipped. “And when I left, to go to school, I wasn’t planning on coming back. And even when I did come back, I kept expecting to be able to leave again, to get back on track.”

“Okay, so tell me something,” Hiccup said.

“What?”

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asked. “Like, what do you want to be doing?”

Astrid laughed bitterly. “Those are two very different questions.”

“How so?”

“I mean, I’m still gonna be here. I know that. Probably in the same apartment, working at the Institute, taking care of my dad.”

“But where do you want to be?” Hiccup asked, his eyes intent as they met hers. 

“Does it matter?” 

“I think so.”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Astrid said, looking down. There was one last bite of food on her plate, and she swallowed it down.

“Somehow I doubt that.” His voice was dry.

She glared at him, but far from cowed, Hiccup leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow as though challenging her. 

“Why do you care?” she snapped.

“Because I care about you.” He sipped from his ever-present mug of coffee—how he _ever_ slept, with as much coffee as he drank, Astrid didn’t know. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “For a while, I had an age picked out where I told myself I would just vanish, and no one in town would ever hear from me again, and I’d set up a life somewhere else, on my own. Where I could start again. And that helped get me through it.”

He didn’t look surprised. “What age?” 

“Twenty-five.”

“So this year?” 

She nodded.

“Is that still what you want?”

“What?”

“Do you still want to leave? Like, permanently, I mean.”

“Well, what about you?” Astrid asked, and for the first time Hiccup looked taken aback at the sudden change of subject. “Where do you see yourself in five years.”

He shrugged. “Same as you, I guess. Living in my grandma’s house, making things, helping people with their houses.”

“That’s it?” she demanded. “That’s all you want to be doing?”

“I’d be happy with it,” he said. “I can imagine making a life here.”

“But how?” she asked. “I don’t get it. I’m stuck here—even without all the shit going on, I couldn’t afford to leave. But I don’t understand how you can _choose_ to move to this town, and then to stay here.”

Hiccup sighed, looking more tired than she’d ever seen him. “Is it so wrong to want a simple life, Astrid?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Especially for someone who pissed off half an industry at twenty-four by trying to revolutionize disability treatment.”

His mouth actually fell open, and he sat up straight to goggle at her. “You’ve read my dissertation?”

“Of course I’ve read your dissertation.” Upon learning Hiccup’s full name from Eret, she’d looked him up and fallen down a rabbit hole that ended up with her reading his dissertation on her laptop at one in the morning. “I had to look up a couple of things, but yeah, I’ve read it.”

“Astrid, most of my friends haven’t read that thing. I have a college buddy who’s starting his residency in a hospital soon who hasn’t read it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, seemingly overwhelmed. “Gods, you would’ve had to, like, hunt that down. When did you even—” 

“That’s not the point,” Astrid said. “The point is, you’ve got the chance to do _amazing_ work, and you’re not taking it. You could really help a lot of people, but instead you’re choosing to stay here, remodeling homes and fixing stairs. You’ve got all this potential, and your’e wasting it—” 

“I’m not wasting anything,” Hiccup snapped, and for the first time since he’d come back, he looked angry. “It’s my life, Astrid, and the only person who gets to decide what to do with it. Not the medical industry—which shouldn’t even be an industry to fucking start with—not my dad, and definitely not you.”

She stood, turning to go up to the deck. 

“Where are you going?” he asked. 

“I need some air.” 

“Look, just because you’re not happy—”

At the base of the ladder, Astrid whirled to tear into him, but whatever she was about to say vanished from her mind as thunder rolled overhead. The crash was deafening, and it made them both jump, even focused as they were on each other. All thought of the disagreement vanished. 

At some point while they’d been arguing, the rain had turned into a storm.

“Shit,” Astrid breathed, meeting Hiccup’s wide eyes. Overhead, lightning flashed.

Instinctively she snapped into action. “Gather up the electronics,” she said. “My laptop and phone are on my bed. Take them, your camera, your computer, your phone if you have it, and stick them in the microwave.” 

“What?” Hiccup looked bewildered. “Why?”

“It’ll protect them,” Astrid said. “Like one of those—those cages—” gods, why couldn’t she think of the name? “—with the lightning.”

“A Faraday cage?”

“Yes!” Astrid started to climb up to the deck, then turned to see Hiccup already heading for her berth. “Anything you don’t want fried. And unplug the big appliances.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

The boat lurched as a wave hit it, almost throwing Astrid off the ladder. She managed to get up on the deck, glancing around at the churning waves and cursing her stupidity at leaving the sails up while they were eating. They were flapping uselessly in the gusting wind, shaping back and forth as the boom swung wildly. The boat itself was rolling with the waves rising and falling beneath it, but not in immediate danger of capsizing. 

At least, she didn’t think so.

Astrid went for the mainsail—without it catching the wind, they’d have an easier time riding this out. She loosened the halyard as she went, pulling the fabric down and hastily securing it to the boom. 

“Astrid?” She turned to see Hiccup clambering onto the deck, wide-eyed—still obviously frightened, but determined too, pushing his instantly-sodden hair away from his face. 

“Not as bad as it could be,” she said. “Just need to get the sails down before something—”

A loud noise like a huge guitar string breaking cut her off, and she spun to see that one side of the jib sheet had snapped, leaving the jib itself to fill with wind. The boat lurched, nearly knocking Hiccup off his feet and sending Astrid staggering forward. 

“Shit!” she exclaimed again.

“Astrid?”

“Take the wheel!” she barked over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get the jib down. Just try to keep us horizontal.”

“You’ve got to be fucking—” Hiccup began, but the wind snatched away the rest of his words as Astrid scrambled onto the table and then up onto the foredeck.

She half-slid along the jib, yanking and wrestling with the fabric until it collapsed onto her. Not even attempting to be orderly, she stuffed the sail into its storage compartment, still trailing lines. The frayed end of the sheet slipped free, and Astrid thought distantly that it must have had a defect in its manufacturing.

She crawled back along the foredeck, turning to clamber down onto the table. 

And then, just as one foot touched its wet surface, everything went wrong.

“Astrid!” Hiccup screamed, and looking over her shoulder, she saw him pointing to the boom, which had been yawning wide but was now starting to swing back across the boat. She managed to duck, lurching forward as the boom passed right through the space where her head had been only moments before, so close that she actually felt it knock her braid. It was only a glancing blow, only really striking her hair, but the force, combined with her awkward, unbalanced position, was enough to make her foot slip on the table.

And then she was falling, Hiccup’s anguished scream echoing in her ears as the deck got closer and closer. 

And then everything went dark.

* * *

**Nine Years Earlier**

The sea was velvet-smooth, quiet beneath the wide, starry sky.

Astrid lay on the deck next to Hiccup, staring up at the constellations above them. They’d talked for a while as they ate Hiccup’s snacks, about school and the ocean and the city where Hiccup lived.

And the dragon, of course, although there were only so many times one of them could ask the other, “I mean, that’s definitely what it was, though, right?” All the same, Hiccup’s eyes were shining with an excitement she could see even in the dark, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Without knowing anything about the dragon other than what they’d seen in their very limited time observing it, they couldn’t speculate much apart from the fact that it probably ate fish.

After a while, the conversation had petered out, and they’d subsided to simply lying side-by-side, looking up at the sky together. Astrid assumed, from the deep, slow breaths Hiccup was taking, that he’d fallen asleep. So it was something of a surprise when, seemingly out of nowhere, he spoke. 

“Hey Astrid?”

She hesitated, hoping he hadn’t felt the way she’d jumped when he’d spoken. “Yeah?”

“What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“What do you mean?”

She felt his shoulders move as he shrugged. “Like, you know. What do you want to do for work? Do you want to stay here, or move somewhere else? What is it you want from life?”

Astrid let out a long, slow breath through her nose. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I definitely want to travel. I mean, I want to see the world. And I think I’d like to work with animals.”

“Like as a vet?”

“No, not really. More like… research. Studying them. Probably whales, I think although all marine animals are pretty interesting.”

“Not dragons?” he asked teasingly.

Astrid snorted. “They’d have to get discovered first.”

“You could be the one to discover them,” Hiccup pointed out. 

“You’re the one who first spotted it.”

“Well, maybe we can take joint credit for it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Astrid’s hand brushed against Hiccup’s, and on an impulse she laced her fingers through his. In her peripheral vision, she saw him turn his head to look at her, but she kept her eyes on the sky. Quiet settled around them, and after a long moment, he looked back up too, letting his hand relax in hers. 

“What about you?” she asked. 

“I’m not sure either,” he said. “I thought I knew, but honestly, after today…”

“Today changed it?”

He squeezed her hand, apparently emboldened by her taking the initiative. “I think today changed everything.”

* * *

**The Present Day**

She woke to the icy rain lashing her face. She blinked her eyes open, her head throbbing with pain, and drew in a sharp breath at what she saw.

Hiccup was standing over her, wrestling with the boat’s wheel. The sweater and shirt he’d been wearing earlier were now missing—and, vaguely, Astrid realized her head was pillowed on something soft, rather than lying directly on the hard surface of the deck. There was more muscle than she’d expected in his bare, skinny chest—still not a lot, but it flexed with each movement, suggesting hidden strength beneath that pale, freckled skin now slick with rain. 

She must have made some kind of noise, because Hiccup glanced down at her. “Stay down,” he said. “I shouldn’t have moved you in the first place, but you were still half up on the table, and I didn’t want to risk you getting flung off the boat or something.”

“Thanks,” Astrid said groggily. She raised her hand to the side of her head, where the pain was pulsing. It came away red and sticky. “I’m bleeding.”

“Yeah, and you’re probably concussed as shit too.” The muscles of his shoulders flexed.

“How long was I out?”

“Only about a minute. You know—” he grunted with effort “—whoever decided to call this ocean the Pacific was a real dumbass.”

“I’m pretty sure that was Magellan,” Astrid remarked, feeling strangely detached from the storm raging around her. 

“Oh, and heaven for-fucking-fend we call Magellan a dumbass, is that what you’re saying?”

Astrid considered that for a moment. “I mean, he did die trying to kill a bunch of people in the Philippines because they wouldn’t convert. So I think that’s fair. Still a better navigator than Columbus, though.”

“And when was this?” Hiccup asked.

Astrid _knew_ the date, but between the pounding in her head and the rocking of the boat, it kept swimming out of her reach. “Fifteen-twenties, I think?”

“Right.” He sighed in what Astrid thought must be relief. “I think we might be past the worst of it. I can see daylight again.”

It did feel like the waves were a little gentler now, which meant the wind must be starting to die down. “Help me up so I can look,” Astrid said, trying to push herself into a sitting position.

“I told you, stay down,” Hiccup said. “I think I’ve got it.”

It was a mark of how badly her head hurt that Astrid let herself ease back onto the pillow of Hiccup’s balled-up sweater, which, she registered now, smelled like him. It was strangely comforting, which must just be due to the accelerated familiarity of having spent almost three days now in close quarters with him.

Looking up at the sky—and yes, she could see it lightening too, the rain falling softer now—Astrid found her eyes drawn to Hiccup again. The muscles in his shoulders and arms were moving more smoothly now that he wasn’t having to wrestle with the wheel just to keep them from getting thrown completely off course, and for the first time she noticed just how broad his shoulders were, especially compared to the narrowness of his waist and hips.

Eventually, the rain slowed and then stopped altogether as they passed beneath the edge of the storm. With shaking hands, Hiccup reached out and released the winch that would lower the anchor. He knelt down beside her, looking more tired than ever.

“What hurts?” he asked.

“Just my head,” Astrid said. 

He nodded. “Okay. Can you feel your hands and feet?” She nodded. “Any numbness or tingling?”

“No.”

“Wiggle your fingers for me?”

She did so.

“And your toes?”

“Hiccup—”

“Please just do it, Astrid.”

She wiggled her toes.

“Okay.” He settled back so he was sitting on his heels. “It doesn’t look like the fall affected your extremities, and you’re not having trouble speaking. You seem to know who I am. What’s your name?”

“Astrid Hofferson. Hiccup, is this really necessary? I’m fine.”

He sighed. “You’re not fine. But let’s try and get you sitting up,” he said, reaching out his hand, and she took it, feeling the calluses of his palm against her own. Slowly, he pulled her up, supporting her shoulders with his other hand.

“Okay?” he said once she was sitting up. 

She gave her head a second to stop spinning before she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Great.” He let go of her hand long enough to stand, then reached for it again so he could help her to her feet. She liked the feeling of his hand on hers, she realized, and for a moment she was worried she’d said so aloud. But his face didn’t show any sign that he’d heard it as he led her over to one of the benches. She sat, missing the warmth of his hands almost immediately as he walked toward the hatch to go below. She must have made some kind of noise, because he turned back and said, “I’m just getting the first-aid kit. I’ll be right back.”

He was back in moments, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and sitting on the bench next to her. She heard plastic clips opening, and glanced over to see him pulling out a little bottle of antiseptic and some gauze. “Can I take out your braid?” he asked, and she nodded. Then his fingers were in her hair, moving along her scalp in search of—

Astrid hissed in pain and jerked away reflexively as Hiccup’s fingertips bumped the place where she’d hit her head. “Stay still,” Hiccup said, though he waited for her to nod before he reached for her head again, and his hands were no less gentle than they had been before. Gentler, even. Astrid let her eyes slide shut as he found the spot again, and though the antiseptic stung, making her breath catch in her throat, she didn’t pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” she said after a long stretch of silence.

“Why are you sorry?” Hiccup murmured, close beside her ear.

“That was some pretty shoddy sailing.”

“It was an accident, Astrid. It could have happened to anyone. And it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t distracted you.”

“If you hadn’t ‘distracted’ me,” Astrid said, “the boom would’ve brained me. Or knocked me off the boat altogether.”

“You think so?”

She nodded.

“I’m glad I did, then,” he said. “That was still one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Why?”

“You hit that table pretty hard.” For the first time he sounded scared, instead of calm and businesslike.

Suddenly, it was all too much for Astrid—the gentleness of his hands, one of which was holding her hair out of the way while he dabbed the blood away from her face, the way he was caring for her, and above all, the fact that he’d been _scared_ for her. “It’s already stopped bleeding,” he said. “You’re going to have a pretty good goose-egg though.”

Astrid couldn’t speak around the lump that was rising in her throat. Injury could be expected on a trip like this; tripping and falling and hitting her head, even getting knocked out, was a hazard she could and should have anticipated. But this—the care and worry in his eyes, the softness with which he brushed her hair away from her face, the blood smeared across the back of his hand like paint—she’d had no way of preparing for. She felt a burning prickle at the back of her eyes, and ducked her head so he wouldn’t see. 

He took his hands away, and more than anything, Astrid wanted to reach out and grab one, to keep him here with her, to hold onto the lovely, soft warmth of his palms and lace his fingers through hers. But that would mean showing him how weak she felt, especially with how vulnerable she already was, and so she kept her hands in her lap, letting him go to the head and wash her blood off his hands while she huddled under the blanket. 

It must be the head injury that was making her so needy, she thought. Yeah. Definitely the head injury.

When he came back up onto the deck, he was pulling a fresh sweater on over his head. He sat down on the bench opposite her, seemingly bracing himself for whatever he was about to say. Silence hung in the air for a long moment before he spoke. “We should go back.”

“What?” Astrid exclaimed, and now there was no hiding her expression as she looked straight at him. “No.”

“Astrid, you have a concussion, potentially a fairly serious one. You need to see a doctor, and probably get a brain scan.”

“You think I can afford a brain scan?” she asked incredulously.

He sighed in exasperation. “You don’t need to. That’s what expedition insurance is for.”

She stared at him. She knew he was right; she’d gone over the documents with Eret herself. But going back now, when she’d only just gotten a taste of the freedom she’d been craving for years, was almost too much to stomach.

“I don’t want to go back,” she said. “Hiccup, I can’t.”

“I know,” Hiccup said softly. “I don’t want to either. But I also don’t want to keep going and discover a couple days from now that you’re not able to wake up.”

She didn’t say anything.

“This isn’t the end, Astrid. We can give it another shot.”

She looked out over the waves, still gray beneath the patchy cloud cover, and then back to him. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said emphatically. “Whenever you’re recovered and ready to try again. I promise.”

Slowly, a little jerkily, Astrid nodded, shutting her eyes against the relief that flooded over Hiccup’s face. “Okay,” she said. “But not tonight. I don’t think sailing in the dark is the best idea, especially with—” She gestured at her head.

“Sure,” Hiccup said, and when she opened her eyes to look at him, the relief had faded, replaced by concern that was almost as hard to look at. “We can start back in the morning. You’ve never had a head injury before, right?” 

She shook her head. “Nothing serious, anyway.”

“The best thing to do will probably be to get you as much rest as possible on the way back. That thing about keeping a person with a concussion awake is a myth; unless you’ve got certain specific risk factors, staying awake just makes you tired. I can take care of most of the sailing stuff, if you walk me through it.”

“Alright,” she said. “I can do that. You should get some rest first, though. I can sit the first watch.”

“You sure?” She nodded. “Okay. If you want to take a shower, I can help wash your hair.”

After a moment, she nodded, and a few minutes later she was sitting on Hiccup’s shower chair in her pajamas, leaning forward to get her hair under the water. If possible, his hands were even more gentle than before as he avoided the sore spot on her skull, scrubbing gently with the shampoo. If any tears leaked out of Astrid’s eyes, they were explained away easily enough as just her eyes watering—he couldn’t keep all the soap out of the wound, of course—or water running over her face. Once the water was running clear, rather than tinged with red, he massaged conditioner in, then stepped back, rinsing off his hands in the water. 

“I’ll leave the rest to you,” he said. “Just be careful when you’re rinsing off, and don’t be afraid to call for help if you need it. I’ll stay downstairs. That grab bar will take your weight if you start feeling woozy.”

She nodded, not saying anything. Her stomach was starting to roll with nausea that she distantly knew must be from the concussion, and if she was going to throw up, she at least wanted to wait until she was alone to do so.

When she emerged, he was standing in the little kitchenette area, holding a pillow and blanket. “I thought I’d sleep up on deck,” he explained when she gave him a questioning look, and after a moment she nodded.

They climbed onto the deck, and Astrid took her position to keep watch for the first few hours of the night, sitting in one of the chairs at the table she’d struck her head on only hours ago. On her way over, she grabbed the blanket Hiccup had wrapped around her. He must have cleaned off the table while she was in the shower; whatever blood might have been on it before was gone, and the smell of lemon-scented cleaning spray hung in the air. Hiccup sat down as well, on one of the benches on either side of the wheel. For the first time, she noticed he’d changed into soft-looking cotton pajama shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Still okay with the leg thing?” he asked. “I usually take it off to sleep.”

Astrid nodded. “Yeah, of course.” The prosthetic started a few inches below his left knee. There was a sort of cup that fit around his calf, and then a long steel rod that led down to a plastic foot. He was wearing a fabric liner under the socket, which mostly covered his knee and left several inches of thigh bare below the hem of his shorts. When she met his gaze again, there was something like anxiety in his eyes, and she realized she’d probably been staring. More at his legs in general than specifically at the prosthetic, but he didn’t know that. She smiled, trying not to blush. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Alright,” he said, smiling. “I’m usually a pretty light sleeper, so I’ll probably wake up if anything happens. But if you need me, wake me up, okay?”

“I will,” she said, looking out over the sea as he took off his leg and got settled under the blanket. 

“Hey Astrid?” he said, and she met his eyes from across the boat. They were shining in the last of the daylight. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Hiccup. Good night.”

“Good night.”

* * *

She was fine, as she’d known she would be. She tried to apologize to the doctor for wasting his time, but he only shook his head.

“No, you were right to come in. From how you’ve described what happened, it could have been a lot worse. You ought to thank that friend of yours for insisting you came in.”

Astrid nodded, smiling tightly. “I will.”

Hiccup was sitting in the waiting room; when she pushed the door open, having first checked with the nurse at the desk that there wasn’t anything else she needed to do before checking out, he rose from his seat, a questioning, worried look on his face. When she gave him a thumbs up, he smiled, and the relief flooding across his face was almost too much for her to look at. As they walked toward the elevator that would take them to the ground floor, she began to appraise him of what the doctor had told her.

“The scan came back clear. I guess they could definitely see where I got hit, but the doctor said he wasn’t too worried. And since I haven’t been having any weird headaches, and the dizziness has basically gone away, he thinks I’m pretty much on the mend. Though of course I’m supposed to call him if anything changes, and I probably shouldn’t spend much time alone for the next couple days.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you’ve still got a full week off work,” Hiccup said lightly. “I can keep an eye on you if you’d like.”

“You’d do that?” Astrid asked, turning to look at him as they waited for the elevator.

He shrugged. “Sure. I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but I do feel kind of responsible for you getting hurt.”

“Hiccup—”

He smiled at her. “I know. Still, though. Do you want to stay at the house, or would you feel more comfortable at your place?”

“Well, if we’re dropping by your house anyway so you can drop off your bag, I guess I can just make up my mind when we get there?”

Hiccup nodded. “Sounds good.”

When they got there, though, the plan changed abruptly. Hiccup was driving; since he’d gotten a ride from his house rather than parking at the harbor, they’d taken her truck to the hospital where she’d had her CAT scan done. That left Astrid free to look out the window, though she found that looking around too much set off her nausea again. Her stomach lurched—though not from the nausea—when she saw a truck parked at the head of Hiccup’s driveway, near the front steps of the house. It was a rather newer model than her own, with a familiar logo plastered across the tailgate. 

“Is that Heather’s truck?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hiccup said. “I didn’t really know anyone else in town, so I asked her to keep an eye on the house while we were gone.”

“Have you two been hanging out?”

He shrugged, glancing over at her. “We’ve gotten breakfast a few times.”

Astrid fought to keep her eyes forward, rather than staring at him. Was that a euphemism?

As they reached the end of the driveway, Heather herself came out the front door of the house onto the porch. She waved at Hiccup, who waved back as he parked Astrid’s truck next to Heather’s. He turned off the truck and got out, leaving the keys in the ignition. As he pulled his bag out of the backseat, Astrid slipped out of the passenger seat, eyeing Heather. 

Heather smiled at her, her eyes running over Astrid’s face and landing on the black eye that had appeared as they’d been traveling back to land. “Hey,” she said, looking concerned now. “You’re back early. What happened?”

“We ran into a storm,” Hiccup said.

“Oh, I heard about that storm, apparently a bunch of fishing boats had trouble too. Are you both okay?”

“Just a concussion,” Astrid said.

“Oh gods,” Heather said, her eyebrows drawing together. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Astrid said. Her stomach was writhing in a way that she couldn’t quite classify as nausea, though it was certainly something close to it. She turned to Hiccup. “I think I want to go home.”

“Okay,” he said, looking a little perplexed. “Just let me—”

“No,” she said. “I mean by myself.”

“What? Astrid, no. You’re still concussed. You shouldn’t drive, and you’re not supposed to be by yourself, remember?”

“I—I know. But I—I can’t.” Panic was tightening in her chest. “I have to go.” 

Before he could stop her, she darted around the truck and got into the driver’s side. She managed to reverse and turn the truck around without hitting anything, so she set off down the driveway. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw Heather still standing on the front porch. Hiccup was beside her, his bag still slung over his shoulder, his face despondent as he watched her drive away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Feels like we're a little early for an "everything goes to shit" chapter. Ah, well.
> 
> A couple things - yes, Astrid is making a bad choice at the end of this chapter by driving off in her big heavy truck two days after suffering a head injury, no matter how fine she's going to be.
> 
> Also - apologies to anyone who has more knowledge about boat physics than I do if I got anything wrong during the storm sequence. I will be the first to admit that my knowledge of sailing comes predominately from Jacky Faber, Charlotte Doyle, and a 20-minute YouTube video I watched as research for the chapter before this, so I would not be shocked if I made a mistake in that description, or in the choices Astrid made during that scene.
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!


	6. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Hiccup POV! Enjoy!

With a loud noise of frustration, Hiccup sank onto the sofa, dropping his bag on the rug next to him.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he groaned.

A few feet away, Heather leaned against the carved mahogany that framed the doorway leading into the sitting room from the hall. “Well,” she said, regarding him evenly, “for one thing, you let her leave.”

“Let her?” Hiccup exclaimed. “I didn’t _let_ her do anything. She just did it.” He sprawled across the cushions with another groan, covering his face with his hands. “What should I have done, tried to keep her here like some kind of captive? If I’d tried to restrain her somehow, she would have just tossed me over the porch railing and driven off anyway. And I’m not her boss. I couldn’t have ordered her to stay.”

He heard Heather walk across the room toward him, and the sofa shifted slightly as she perched on the arm by his feet. He peered through his fingers at her as she looked down at him, her lips curving slightly despite the worry he could still see in her eyes. “Friends don’t let friends drive concussed,” she said. “Or people they… care about.”

Hiccup chuckled ruefully, letting his head loll against the arm of the sofa. “Am I that obvious?”

Heather shrugged. “You’re not not obvious.”

“Do you think she’s noticed?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “That day when you came into the store right after she’d left, she was in there to ask me what I thought of you.”

“Really?” Hiccup asked, for some reason rather pleased by that, and Heather nodded. “Hmm.” That was only a couple of weeks ago, he realized. It felt like longer, what with everything that had happened, and how much had changed. Short as the trip had been, it felt monumental to Hiccup. It might not have shifted the trajectory of his life quite the way that first day with her had, when they’d first seen the dragon, but it had still been almost a week with her, and that in itself was remarkable. And despite the argument and the concussion and the storm—despite everything—he’d loved every second he spent with her.

Even the ones he’d hated. 

“So what happened?” Heather asked.

“What?”

“How’d she get hurt?”

Hiccup sighed. “She was up on the table and she slipped and hit her head.”

“Why was she up on the table?”

“She used it to climb onto the foredeck so she could get the jib down, and then as she was getting back down she almost got hit by the boom.”

Heather smiled slightly. “Wow, you’re almost starting to sound like a sailor.” With a wry smile, Hiccup sat up and scooted to one side of the sofa, and she sat down next to him. “And I see what you mean about not _letting_ her do anything. Sounds like it was scary, though.”

“It was,” Hiccup said, suddenly very tired. He’d been going almost constantly for the past several days, trying to take care of Astrid and make sure they got home safely, and now it felt like it had caught up with him all at once. “It—gods, it was terrifying.” He drew in a shaky breath. “And, I mean, I did what I could, but I’m not a doctor, at least not the kind of doctor that could have been any kind of helpful out there.”

“You did everything you could,” Heather said. “You got her home. And she hates needing help.”

Hiccup sighed. “I know that, and at the same time I feel like I should be doing more to help her.”

“Like, with the concussion, or…”

“Just in general,” he said. “She’s going through this awful thing, and I want to help, but I don’t know how, and I don’t feel like I know enough about what’s going on to actually do something about it.”

“What do you feel like you should be doing?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe talk to her, but every time we start talking about her mom, she gets angry or changes the subject.”

“Well, yeah, she would,” Heather said. “She hates talking, especially about feelings. She’s always been that way.”

“You really know her, don’t you?” Hiccup said pensively, looking over at her. 

Heather shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re best friends with someone for almost twenty years.”

“What happened?” he asked. “Last time I was here, you two were practically inseparable, and now you barely talk.”

She didn’t say anything for a long minute, staring at a point on the wall opposite them. Following her gaze, Hiccup saw that she was looking at the painting hanging there, the one he’d done of Astrid. He wondered if she realized it was her, though as Astrid’s face was hidden, he supposed she might not.

“It was a couple years ago,” she said. “About a year after she got the news about her mom.”

“After she came back after college.”

Heather nodded. “After we all did—her and Justin and me. I… I should explain about Justin. He and I had dated in high school, and then while we were in college, we sort of had an arrangement where we’d date while we were at home for the summer, and then during the school year we could kind of just do what we wanted, since we went to different schools.”

Hiccup nodded. “Sure.” He’d heard of plenty of similar arrangements with other couples.

“And then when we moved back, we started dating again, and things were getting kind of serious when he decided he wanted to go to grad school.”

“For library science, right?” he asked, remembering something Astrid had said. 

“Yeah. And there are online programs, of course, but he didn’t want to do that. And I couldn’t go with him because I was basically already running the store at that point, and I didn’t want to give it up. We argued about it for a while and broke up about a month before he left. I showed up at Astrid’s apartment in tears, and she ordered pizza. We talked about it, but it felt like she wasn’t really listening, so I got upset.” She sucked in a breath. “I felt like she wasn’t really engaging with what was going on, and I got frustrated because I’d spent _so_ much time with her in the year before that, trying to help her cope, and it felt like the _one_ time I needed her, she wasn’t there for me.”

“I—I’m sure she didn’t mean for that to happen,” Hiccup said. “She probably just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth, with her mom and everything—” 

“I know.” Heather wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’ve thought a lot about it since then. But that’s the way it felt.”

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his side. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “And we fought about it. Things escalated, and finally I told her—” She took another deep breath. “Right before I stormed out, I told her that paying attention was the least she could do, since I was the only one who stood by her when she said she’d seen that—that dragon.” She met his eyes. “Well, that you both had seen it.”

For a second, Hiccup just stared at her, trying to shake off the feeling of having been blindsided. “And did you… believe her?”

Heather snorted. “No, of course not.”

He shifted on the sofa, barely suppressing a sigh of relief that he didn’t quite understand. “And you haven’t talked since then?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I felt like I should be the one to apologize, but I didn’t know how. And then last year, when… when it actually happened, she didn’t even try to reach out to me. Which was… pretty clear.”

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup said again, and Heather gave him a small, sad smile. 

“Yeah, well. Arguing with Astrid Hofferson is not an experience I’d recommend.”

“I’ve done it.” The words popped out before he could think about them. 

“You two had a fight?”

He nodded. “Right before the storm hit.”

“What about?” 

“Living here,” Hiccup said. _And whether it’s moral to choose a life that isn’t all about trying to live up to your potential._

“Did she tell you the thing about picking an age when she was going to disappear?” Heather asked, and now that sad little smile was back.

“Yeah.”

She looked down, swallowing hard, and her eyes flicked to the painting once more before she said, “You know what I think you should do?”

“What’s that?”

“Let her come to you.”

Hiccup chuckled dryly. “I’m really not good at waiting.”

“I’m not either,” Heather said, one corner of her mouth quirking a little. “But since you got here, you’ve been doing nothing but pushing her.”

“How do you know—”

“Everyone knows,” Heather said, and now she did give him a wry smile. “Gossip spreads like wildfire in this town. But what I’m trying to say is, when you push Astrid, she pushes back. And if you push her too hard, she just leaves. If you want her, you need to wait. She’ll come when she’s ready.” She looked at the painting again, her jaw clenching. “And you need to be here for her when she does.”

Hiccup looked at the painting too, taking in all the details of the waves, the boat, the gold in Astrid’s hair, and remembering again the day—and the girl—that had tilted his life on its axis.

“Let her come to me,” he said, echoing Heather’s words. “I think I might be able to do that.”

That plan lasted all of two days.

He found the whale poop as he was picking out his lunch, digging through the containers he’d transferred from the boat to his fridge. No sense in wasting good food, after all, and it had given him an excuse to drive down to the docks and make sure Astrid’s truck was parked safely in her driveway. He stared at the container of orange goo for a moment, slightly dumbfounded, before he remembered Astrid leaning over the side of the boat and then grinning at him over the container. Of course, he’d been rather more interested in looking at Astrid than the whale poop at the time.

Before he’d even completed the thought that he really ought to get a separate fridge for samples going forward, he was driving north, the container of excrement next to him on the passenger seat. He found a spot in the Wilderwest Institute’s parking lot and made his way in through the front entrance.

Across from the door, there was a large tank in which many small, brightly colored fish were darting about. On Hiccup’s left, there was a doorway opening onto a modest gift shop, and on the right, a bored-looking college student sat at a welcome desk. She turned to look at him, having apparently been watching the fish when he walked in.

“Welcome in,” she said, eyeing the glassware in his hands. Her nose wrinkled a little before she met his gaze, apparently recognizing its contents. “How can I help you?”

“Hi,” Hiccup said. “I’m, um, looking for Eret Hunter.”

She stood. “Oh! Great. His office is this way, I can take you.”

“Don’t you need to stay at your post?”

The girl stopped halfway between her desk and the fish tank. “I’ll only be gone a minute. Besides, I’ve been sitting there for an hour, and you’re the first person to come in.”

“Alright, then, lead the way,” Hiccup said, and with a grin she did so, leading him down a short hallway and then stopping in front of an open door. 

“Dr. Hunter?” she said. “You have a visitor.”

A man appeared in the doorway. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. There was a tattoo on his chin, and his amber eyes were inquisitive as they met Hiccup’s. 

“Ah. Thank you, Izzy,” he said. With a nod, the girl turned and walked back toward the lobby.

“Hi,” Hiccup said. “Eret, right? We’ve talked on the phone.”

As he spoke, recognition stole over Eret’s face. “Oh, you must be Mr. Haddock.”

“Hiccup, please,” Hiccup said. “Mr. Haddock is my father.”

“Dr. Haddock?” Eret suggested, raising an eyebrow. 

“If you must,” Hiccup said, feeling one side of his mouth turning up in a smile. He paused a moment before adding, “Dr. Hunter.”

Eret rolled his eyes, giving a slight smile. “Oh, gods,” he said. “It’s nice to finally meet you though.”

“You too,” Hiccup said. He glanced around. “Astrid’s not here, is she?”

“No, she’s at home resting,” Eret said. “And will be for the next week.”

“Good, she needs it.”

Eret nodded. “It was hard to convince her to take the full week off, but I’m stopping by her place after work to do a grocery—” With a gasp, he stopped talking abruptly, eyes widening as he looked at Hiccup.

“What?”

“You’re the one—” 

“The one what?” Hiccup asked when Eret didn’t finish the thought.

“Nothing. Sorry,” Eret said, though his eyes were still wide, as though he’d realized something of vital importance. “But what can I help you with? I assume you’re not just here to make sure Astrid isn’t working with a concussion.”

“No,” Hiccup said, though he thought that would be a perfectly worthwhile reason for coming up here. He held up the container. “I have her whale poop.”

Eret’s eyebrows rose, bewildered this time. “Her—?”

“Whale poop,” Hiccup said again. “She said it might be valuable.”

“Very,” Eret said. “There’s a lot of data in that tupperware. May I?”

“Please,” Hiccup said, handing over the container.

“Are you gonna want this back?”

Hiccup snorted. “No, I’m good.”

“Well, the Wilderwest Institute thanks you. And I’m sure Astrid does too.”

“We should have a meeting,” Hiccup said. “When Astrid gets back. She and I talked about doing another expedition, as part of the negotiations for coming back”—Eret’s lips turned up in a knowing smile—“and I think we should all sit down and talk about it.”

Eret nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll give you a call when she’s back to work. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I just wanted to drop that off,” Hiccup said, pointing to the container Eret was now holding. “Nice to meet you, though. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, you too,” Eret said.

“What the fuck was that?” Hiccup muttered to himself once he was back in his car. _“I have her whale poop.”_

With an exasperated sigh, he buckled his seatbelt and started the car, heading back down the coastal road to—finally—eat his lunch.

He saw her ten days later, on what was, incidentally, her first day back to work.

He was driving south into town, hoping to get breakfast—alone—at Phlegma’s diner before meeting with contractors. The permits for his workshop had _finally_ come in from the city, and while he was confident enough about building the workshop itself, pouring the cement for the foundation was a little beyond him.

He was turning a curve in the road when her truck came into view. She’d pulled over to the side of the road, and her orange hazard lights were blinking, bright against the faded blue paint of the truck. Hiccup slowed as he approached, coming to a stop when he was level with her and rolling down his window. 

She was talking on the phone, probably to Eret, and was clearly frustrated. He couldn’t hear the conversation, of course, but from the way she was nodding, he guessed Eret was telling her to just get there when she could. As she hung up, she glanced over, seemingly seeing him for the first time. She sighed visibly.

Then she rolled down her window.

She was so beautiful, he thought, beautiful and tired and disgruntled at needing his help. That reminded him why he’d stopped, and he spoke. 

“Need a ride?”

* * *

**Nine Years Earlier**

Hiccup jumped about a foot as what was very distinctly someone’s _knuckles_ rapped on the glass of his window. He looked up from his book and gave another huge start when he saw Astrid’s face about a foot away, grinning at him from the window overlooking his desk, at least thirty feet above the ground. 

Acutely and intensely grateful that she hadn’t caught him doing something more embarrassing than reading—and that he was still wearing his leg—he stood, sliding the window open.

“Astrid? What the—”

“Do you want to go on an adventure?”

“What, now?”

“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” she said. “So we probably won’t have another chance.”

For a moment, he wondered how she knew that, but then his stomach lurched as he remembered where he was. Everyone knew everything here.

He glanced down at the book he’d been reading—an anatomy textbook, the one he’d been assigned for the class he’d be taking this fall during his first semester at the little university in the city where he and his dad lived. Since he would almost certainly be the youngest person in his class—and by a pretty wide margin, at that—he wanted to get an early start so he wouldn’t embarrass himself once class actually started.

He knew Astrid had been grounded since their misadventure on her dad’s boat a month ago. She’d probably snuck out tonight—it was rapidly approaching midnight, and if her curfew was any later than that, he’d eat his left foot. He hadn’t been grounded, exactly—his grandma had never been able to bring herself to be severe with him, and that was especially true now—but she’d still been keeping a close eye on him, and it was starting to get a little smothering. 

So he could definitely do with a little freedom himself.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, and the smile she gave him was dazzling even in the low light of his desk lamp.

“Okay, come on,” she said, starting to climb back down the trellis outside his window. 

“I’ll meet you down there,” he said, poking his head out to look down at her. 

She smirked up at him, and his stomach did an odd sort of flip. “Too scared?”

“No,” Hiccup said, a little too quickly, and Astrid’s smirk widened. He rolled his eyes at her. “Look, you go ahead. I’ll see you in a minute.”

He pulled his head back in and shut the window, then changed out of his pajama shorts into a pair of jeans and put his shoes on. Patting his pants pocket to make sure he had his house key, he crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky places on the stairs that he’d learned over his summer living here. He slipped out the front door, locking it behind him, and turned to see Astrid waiting, half-crouched in the shadow of the front porch.

She straightened up when she saw him, smiling. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he said, trotting down the front steps to join her.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “I realized you probably just didn’t want to climb down the trellis in case you hurt your leg.”

It was close enough to the truth. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “So what’s this adventure?”

“You’ll see,” Astrid said. She started walking down the driveway, her feet crunching on the gravel. Hiccup followed. “I’m parked at the end of the driveway,” she said. “I didn’t want your grandma to hear my car.”

“Good thought,” he said. Her face turned toward him. The driveway wasn’t lit, and they’d passed beyond the reach of the porch light, so he couldn’t really see her face, but he thought she was smiling. 

For a long moment as they walked, he thought about reaching out and taking her hand, the way she had on the boat. But then he remembered the way her eyes had flashed when _he’d_ grabbed _her_ hand to point out the dragon to her and thought better of it. All the same, he couldn’t stop thinking of the way her hand had felt wrapped in his, so warm, with calluses across her palms and fingertips that lined up neatly with his own. He’d always thought, imagining holding hands with someone, that soft hands would be nice, but Astrid’s hands weren’t soft at all, and he couldn’t imagine anything nicer.

“So what’ve you been doing?” he asked.

“Mostly just staying at home,” Astrid said. “My dad was really upset that I took the boat out without permission, especially because I forgot to take the radio. So I’ve been doing a lot of chores.”

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup said. “I feel like that’s my fault.”

“It’s definitely not,” Astrid said. 

“But won’t you get in trouble for sneaking out tonight?”

“Only if I get caught.” He just barely caught sight of the conspiratorial grin she shot him in the headlights of a passing car—quite possibly the only other people out at this time of night. 

He could see the mass of her faded burgundy station wagon starting to emerge from the darkness, parked to one side of the entrance of the driveway. Astrid went to the driver’s side of the car, and the dome light turned on as she opened the door. She got in and leaned across to open his door, and for the first time that night, he got a good look at her. 

Gods, she was beautiful, even with the too-bright car light washing her out. Her hair, pulled back in the braid she’d worn that first day too, hung over her shoulder, and he thought she might even be wearing the same red t-shirt. He got in the car, waiting to shut the door until after he’d buckled his seatbelt and let her place a crinkly plastic grocery bag on his lap just so he could look at her a moment longer.

“What’s in here?” he asked as she turned on the ignition. The car thrummed happily to life beneath them, and the headlights turned on.

“Snacks,” Astrid said, pulling out onto the road. “Can’t go on an adventure without snacks.”

Hiccup supposed that was true enough. 

They headed north, away from town. Midway between the house and the aquarium his grandma had taken him to, Astrid turned right onto a narrow country road that twisted uphill in tight, winding turns. She took the turns slowly and carefully, but all the same, Hiccup felt his grip on the grocery bag tighten as his breath grew shallower, and sweat sprang up on the back of his neck. 

“You okay?” Astrid asked.

His head snapped to look at her, surprised she’d noticed. “Yeah, sorry.”

“We’re almost there,” she said. “There’s another way, but you have to go into town for it and I didn’t want to double back. But we can go that way when we head back, if you’re okay with it taking a little longer.”

Mutely, Hiccup nodded.

They passed a turn—the way back to town, if Hiccup had to hazard a guess—and a couple of minutes later, the road beneath them shifted, turning into bumpy packed dirt. Involuntarily, Hiccup’s hand flew to the door handle and clenched around it.

“Sorry,” Astrid said bracingly. “Just a bit farther.”

Then, out of nowhere, the fir trees they’d been driving through since leaving the coastal road vanished as a clearing several hundred feet across opened up around them, and Hiccup forgot to be scared. Far, far above them, he could see the stars shining down from the impossibly deep night sky. He gasped in wonder, and Astrid grinned over at him before pulling over to one side of the road and turning the car off.

Clutching the bag of snacks, Hiccup got out of the car and kept looking up at the stars. He couldn’t help it; there was just _so many_ of them, and he could actually _see_ the Milky Way arcing across the sky. The only other time he could remember seeing a night sky like this was on Astrid’s dad’s boat—which, he realized, might be part of the reason she’d brought him here.

He dimly registered a car door opening and shutting behind him, and then Astrid was saying, “Help me spread out the blanket.” When he looked at her, she said teasingly, “They’ll still be there.”

He felt a blush suffuse his cheeks, and was glad that the light, while bright enough for them to see each other, wasn’t bright enough for her to see _that._ “Blanket?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she said. “So we can lay out and look at the stars.”

“Oh.”

They spread the blanket not quite halfway across the clearing and sat down on it. Hiccup could feel the grass, dryer than usual from how hot the last month had been, poking at his legs and bottom through the fabric of the blanket.

Astrid took the grocery bag from him and tugged it open, pulling out items of food and laying them on the blanket. “Chili and lime chips,” she said, “and chocolate, and a soda for you, and a soda for me.”

He took the glass bottle she was holding out to him. “Is this one of those sodas that’s made with cane sugar?”

Astrid nodded. “Yeah, it’s the good shit.”

He snorted, though to be fair that wasn’t far off how he’d been thinking about it.

They drank their sodas and ate the chips, chatting as they did—and the soda, Hiccup was pleased and impressed to find, was indeed the good shit—and then lay back, watching the sky above them as they broke pieces off the chocolate bar Astrid had brought.

“Sorry,” he said as their fingers brushed.

“It’s okay.”

They were quiet for a long while after that, still and content to be lying next to each other in the cool night air, their hands not quite touching. They didn’t talk much, but it didn’t feel like they really needed to. There wasn’t much to be said, after all; the strange bond they’d formed the day they’d seen the dragon left a lot unsaid, and it was that same bond that Hiccup could feel between them now. Hiccup and Astrid had shared an experience that, as far as Hiccup knew, no one else in living memory could claim. That was impossible to replicate, and even without the feelings he was only beginning to understand—though there was no denying their existence—it gave Astrid a place in his life no one else would ever have.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. “At home, there’s too much light pollution, but out here it’s like there’s nothing between you and the stars.”

Astrid chuckled. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But that’s not why I brought you out here.”

“What do you—” But he stopped short as a streak of light flashed across the sky. “Was that a meteor?”

“Yup.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

And then, as if that first meteor had broken through whatever seal was holding the rest of them back, there was another flash of light, and then another, and Hiccup watched, spellbound, as countless meteors streaked across the sky one after the other, burning up in the atmosphere far, far above him. He could feel the warmth of Astrid’s hand in his—she must have grabbed his hand again, or perhaps he was the one who’d taken hers.

He wasn’t sure.

They watched the rest of the meteors mostly in thrilled, companionable silence, occasionally exclaiming and pointing with their free hands. Hiccup lost all track of time, focused only on the sky above him and the feeling of Astrid next to him, her fingers laced through his. 

Finally, the meteors slowed and then stopped completely, and Astrid sat up, gently extricating her hand. “We should get back,” she said.

They drove through town, as Astrid had suggested. She didn’t ask about the way he’d started to freak out on the climb to the clearing, for which he was grateful. Now she was nervous, though, and Hiccup wondered why. At first, he thought it might be due to the time; although it was still the wee hours of the morning, according to the clock on the dashboard, a few lights flicked on as they drove through town, no doubt getting up for _very_ early shifts. But the nerves didn’t dissipate once they’d left town—and the chance of being spotted by someone who might tell Astrid’s dad they’d seen her—behind.

He got his answer when they reached his grandma’s house. Astrid parked at the end of the driveway again and undid her seatbelt, though she left the engine running. For a long moment, they just looked at each other in the pre-dawn darkness. Hiccup didn’t want to leave. If he left, there would only be a few hours until morning, when his father would arrive to take him home. And Astrid didn’t appear to want him to go either. 

Then she punched him in the arm. 

“Ow! What was that—”

“That’s for getting me in trouble with my dad.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t—”

That was all he got out before her hand fisted in the front of his shirt and she pulled him toward her. For just a second, he could see her eyes, though they looked gray in the darkness, before they slid shut and she was kissing him.

Her mouth was soft and impossibly warm on his, and she tasted like the cream soda they’d drunk up on the hill. After a single startled moment, he kissed her back, and oh _gods,_ it felt good. Then she was pulling away again. He thought she might be blushing, but it was hard to tell in the darkness, even with as close as they were.

“And that’s for showing me a dragon,” she said.

Hiccup didn’t know where the nerve came from to do what he did next. He suspected he never would. But he leaned in and kissed her, feeling the hand that had been clenched in his shirt relax to rest against his thudding heart. When he pulled back, her eyes were wide, but she was smiling. 

“And that,” he said, “is for showing me the stars.”

With that, the last of his boldness evaporated. He got out of the car and started the walk back up to the house. He couldn’t seem to stop touching his lips, reveling in the feeling of hers that was still lingering there. Once he got to the porch light, he turned and waved. Astrid, still at the end of the driveway, flashed her headlights twice at him and then pulled away, heading south.

With a sigh equal parts happiness and longing—longing to stay, longing for Astrid, for another night like this one someday, no matter how long it took—he unlocked the door and went inside.

* * *

**The Present Day**

Hiccup jumped as something struck his bedroom window. He sat up in bed, letting his paperback fall to the mattress, and looked over, half-expecting to see Astrid’s face again. But she wasn’t there.

He reached for his leg and slipped it on. As he was standing up, another object—a pebble, he was guessing, from the garden below—hit the window. He walked over, leaning across his desk, and slid the window open. He couldn’t poke his head out—one of the things he’d done while working on the outside of the house was install window screens—but at the sound of the window opening, a voice floated up out of the darkness.

“Hey.”

It was Astrid. 

“Astrid?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Oh, gods. “Okay. I’ll be right down. Oh, um—do you want anything to drink?”

“That’s okay. I brought cream soda.”

Oh, _gods._ “Alright. I’ll be right there.” He didn’t bother changing out of his pajama shorts—it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, after all—but did slip on a t-shirt. His garden shoes were next to the kitchen door, and he slipped them on before flipping on the back porch light and letting himself out.

Astrid was waiting for him at the bottom of the porch steps.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at her. “You didn’t climb the trellis this time.”

She chuckled. “No, I saw it’s the same one that was there before and I didn’t want to risk breaking it.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to disturb the ivy, it’s been growing really well.”

Her eyes flicked over the house behind him. “The house is looking great,” she said. “And it’s nice to see my dad’s hard work is paying off.”

“Yeah, he’s been doing an amazing job.” Hiccup jerked his head toward the rose garden. “Actually, if you want to walk through the garden with me, there’s a good spot to sit and talk.”

“Okay,” Astrid said, smiling slightly, and Hiccup led the way along the step-stone path through the garden. 

The spot he’d mentioned was a wooden swing hanging on chains from a stout tree branch, only a few feet away from the cliff’s edge. It overlooked the ocean, which at this time of night was mostly just darkness and the soft rumbling of crashing waves. 

“This is a nice spot,” Astrid said. 

“Yeah, my grandma used to spend a lot of time out here,” Hiccup said, sitting down. “When I was a kid, though, it was a tire swing. I wanted just a normal swing, but my parents thought it was a bad idea to give me anything I could jump off this close to a cliff.”

“They weren’t worried about you falling?” Astrid asked. “More than jumping, I mean.”

He sighed. “Well, they might have overheard me talking about designing a paraglider when I was twelve or so,” he admitted. “After that, the main concern was jumping. Or, as I preferred to think of it, trying to fly.”

Astrid laughed. “A paraglider?” she asked incredulously.

He ruffled his hand through the back of his hair, chuckling ruefully. “Yup. This one went up the same summer I did the roof.”

She passed him one of the sodas. “Thanks,” he said, twisting off the lid of the glass bottle and taking a sip. “Oh, yeah, that’s the good shit,” he said, and she laughed again. 

The sodas were probably a sort of apology, he figured, most likely for rushing off the way she had. It wasn’t really necessary—he’d been worried about her more than anything else—but he decided to accept it nonetheless, to show her that he didn’t hold it against her.

“So what’s up?” he asked. 

Astrid took a deep breath. “Is there anything going on with you and Heather?”

“I… what?”

“Like… you know.”

“Oh. No, definitely not. She’s just helped me at the store a lot, and we’ve kind of become friends.”

“So ‘getting breakfast’ wasn’t a euphemism?”

He choked on his drink, coughing for a few seconds before he was able to say, “No, we both just get downtown at the same time pretty often, and after a couple times of running into each other at the diner, we decided to start planning it ahead of time.”

“I see.” For a long moment, Astrid was quiet, looking out into the darkness. Then she said, “I know I probably scared you. Not just when I fell, but when I left, and the way I left. Eret said you went to the Institute to make sure I wasn’t there.”

“Mostly to drop off your whale poop, actually.” Astrid snorted. “Checking that you weren’t trying to work with a concussion was just a bonus. But yeah, I was really worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Astrid said, and the vulnerability in her voice made Hiccup’s heart ache. “It was wrong to scare you like that.”

“Astrid, I’m not upset because you scared me, I’m upset because you put yourself in danger.”

She nodded. “I know I did.” She looked over at him. “You are upset, though?”

He shrugged. “Kind of.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She took another deep breath. “I think we should give it another shot,” she said. 

“Give what another shot?”

“The expedition,” she said. “Looking for—for dragons.”

He knew he was beaming at her, but he couldn’t help it. “Okay.”

“I know I messed up last time, but I promise that won’t happen again.” She was sitting with one leg tucked under her, half-turned toward him, and in his excitement, he’d mirrored her. Now he reached out and took the hand that wasn’t holding her soda. She jumped slightly but didn’t pull her hand away. 

“Astrid, I don’t blame you for anything that happened,” he said earnestly. “I told you, I’d be happy to go on another expedition with you whenever you’re ready. If you feel like you’re ready, let’s do it.”

Now Astrid was smiling too, and the happiness on her face was so beautiful it made Hiccup’s breath hitch. Her eyes, so impossibly blue, were glittering in the porch light, and even as he was unable to keep his eyes from falling to her lips for just a moment, he thought he saw hers doing the same.

“Okay,” she said, and if possible her smile got even brighter. “Yeah, I want to.” Hiccup’s heart swelled—she was _saying_ what she _wanted._ “Let’s do it.”

They met with Eret, and it wasn’t so long after that that Hiccup again found himself standing on the deck of the boat _far_ too early on a Saturday morning, preparing to embark. He glanced up, and there was Astrid striding down the hill toward the docks, the same duffel bag as before slung over her shoulder. Rather than the stormy expression she’d worn at the start of the first trip, her face was open, her expression light, and as she caught sight of him, she waved, smiling tentatively. 

_“Night Fury?”_ she asked as she reached him, reading the freshly-stenciled black letters on the bright red hull of the boat. “What’s a Night Fury?”

He couldn’t tell her the truth, not here. So he spread his arms, as though to envelop the entire boat. “You’re looking at it.”

She grinned, accepting his outstretched hand and climbing onto the boat. Her face was glorious in the bright morning sun, shining with a kind of hope he hadn’t seen there in a long time. Heather had been right—he’d waited for Astrid to come to him in her own time, and now she had.

Now she was here. With him. 

And as he looked at her, with the sunlight dancing in her hair and that small, excited smile playing across her face, the truth of what he felt for Astrid, kept at arm’s length from the second he’d realized just how wrong everything was in her life, flashed into his head, stark and undeniable as a lightning bolt. It was less a realization than a reminder, though it was no less powerful for that. 

They began preparations to set out once more, raising sails and adjusting sheets until they were speeding over the water, the land fading behind them. From her place at the wheel, Astrid smiled at him when she caught him looking at her, practically glowing with the exhilaration of being on the water again. He smiled back, that singular utter certainty building inside him. 

She wanted to be here. 

She wanted to be with _him._

He knew that, although things were certainly better than they had been, and she was doing far better than she had been, there was still a long way to go, and he had a lot of work to do to earn her trust. He was ready to do that work, to make her believe that he would stay with her, that he would always be there for her when she needed him. 

Because the truth was, he would be, for as long as she let him.

For Astrid Hofferson— _with_ Astrid Hofferson—Hiccup would sail to the very end of the world.

And possibly even a little bit beyond that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a stunning turn of events, Hiccup had a lot to say.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it; I definitely had a lot of fun writing it. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> (Housekeeping: as you may be able to tell, I'm trying to start getting back into my regular upload schedule. I can't make any promises, but things have improved for me on several fronts, and I'm having a much easier time writing. I wanted to let you know that I've appreciated all the patience and support over the last few months; it really means a lot. Thank you, and stay safe!)


	7. Chapter 7

It took Astrid almost three days to realize that the feeling thrumming away in her chest, turning up the corners of her lips every time she looked out over the waves, and sending a laugh bubbling up from inside her at seemingly half the things Hiccup said, was _happiness._ When she did figure it out, she was stretched out on her back on the foredeck, basking in the afternoon sun. She could hear Hiccup’s pencil scratching on the paper of his sketchbook from his seat next to the wheel, and, shutting her eyes, she smiled, reveling in the warmth of the sunlight on her skin.

Above her head, the jib luffed slightly in the wind. Her brow wrinkled, but before she could say anything, Hiccup said, “Got it, sorry.” He drew gently on the sheet, and a moment later the sail was full once more. His pencil resumed its scratching, and Astrid gave a little sigh of contentment. 

A girl could get used to this.

She pushed herself up on her elbows to look at Hiccup, and as though he could feel her eyes on him, he looked up to meet her gaze, one side of his mouth rising in a lopsided smile.

“Yes, milady?”

“What are you drawing?” she asked.

“Oh, uh, solar sails,” he said. “I’ve been trying to figure out some more improvements for the _Fury.”_

“Solar sails? Aren’t those kind of science fiction-y?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a little, but there’s already at least one spacecraft using them. And I know about someone doing something similar for boats. I was thinking it would be nice for us, so we don’t have to keep pulling out the panels every few days. I’m trying something a little different, though.”

“Of course you are,” Astrid said, smiling at him, and he grinned in response.

“If you want to move your sunbathing down here, I’ll draw you,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows at him, and pink tinged his cheeks.

“I-if you want, that is,” he said. “It’s just that when you’re lying down up there, all I can really see is your feet, and, uh…” His blush deepened.

Astrid giggled and turned over onto her stomach, crawling back over the edge of the foredeck. She reached one foot down for one of the rungs Hiccup had recently bolted into the wall and climbed down onto the main deck.

She hesitated for a moment, then sat on the bench opposite him. “What should I do?” she asked. “Stretch out, or…”

“Just get comfortable,” he said, flipping to a new sheet of paper.

“Okay,” she said. She settled onto the bench, slowly relaxing again in the warmth of the sun. She could feel his gaze on her, but the sensation didn’t bother her as his pencil started moving across the paper. She was more comfortable than she’d expected, and so it only took a moment or two of shifting to find a position where she could stay still for a while. She found her thoughts drifting to the events of the past few days. 

It had been smooth sailing, literally as well as figuratively. They’d run into a squall yesterday, smaller than the storm that had hit them during the first trip. Even if it hadn’t been, though, Astrid thought they could have managed it. They’d worked together almost seamlessly, and since it hadn’t taken them by surprise, they hadn’t been scrambling when it hit.

Things had been even calmer between the two of them, though to be fair that probably had something to do with their unspoken agreement to avoid talking about work, parents, the future, or anything else that might renew their conflict from a few weeks before. They hadn’t talked about the fight itself either, which, though Astrid was naturally reluctant, she felt like they probably ought to. She was a little nervous about bringing it up, though. She’d realized in the intervening time that the argument had been the first time she’d ever seen him truly _angry,_ rather than just pissy and in pain the way he’d been when they were kids. It hadn’t frightened her, but all the same, it weighed on her. For him to have actually gotten mad, she must have really struck a nerve. She was torn between wanting to know _why,_ wanting to apologize, and never wanting to broach the subject ever again.

“You okay over there?” Hiccup asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” he said. “You just look like you’re thinking about something very intently.”

“Oh.” She tried to relax her face. “Sorry.”

He chuckled. “You don’t need to apologize.” For a moment, all was still save for the sound of his pencil on the paper. “I am kind of curious, though. What are you thinking about?”

“Mostly just hoping my dad’s okay,” Astrid said. It wasn’t _untrue._

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hiccup said, just a touch of carefulness in his tone. She cracked one eye open to look at him and saw that a small wrinkle had appeared between his eyebrows as he looked down at his sketchbook. It could just be from concentration, but she didn’t remember that from the last time she’d watched him draw.

It seemed he was worried about starting the fight back up too.

Resisting the urge to reach over and smooth out the wrinkle with her thumb, Astrid shut her eye again. “I’m sure,” she said. “I went by the house the day before we left, and he and I made a nice big lasagna for him to freeze and work though while I’m gone.”

“You didn’t tell me you cooked,” Hiccup said.

Astrid laughed. “I don’t. At least not the way you do. But lasagna’s my dad’s favorite.” Her voice wavered only a little as she added, “It was my mom’s recipe.”

“Well, then I’d like to try it someday.”

Astrid felt her lips curl in a smile. “I’m sure we can arrange that.”

Hiccup gave a pleased little huff of breath, and Astrid was sure he was smiling too. “Did you ever get in trouble for sneaking out?” he asked after a moment. “You know, that night we saw the meteor shower.”

The night she’d kissed him.

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “I think he and my mom might have turned a blind eye, though.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I think my grandma probably did too.”

“You think they all knew?”

There was a pause—Hiccup, Astrid figured, was probably shrugging. “Hard to say. But my grandma used to know everything that was going on in town. And she wasn’t surprised at all at how tired I was the next morning.” He paused. “I wonder why she never told me—”

He stopped abruptly, but Astrid could guess well enough what he had started to say—why his grandma hadn’t told him about Astrid’s mother.

“She probably assumed you wouldn’t be that interested in the family troubles of someone you hung out with twice,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Or she might have assumed I wouldn’t want the attention. My mom always tried to keep it as private as she could.”

“She might have even forgotten you were the one I’d disappeared with,” Hiccup admitted. “She forgot a lot toward the end there.”

They were quiet after that, the only sound that of Hiccup’s pencil and the waves gently lapping at the sides of the boat. Then, slowly, the pencil stilled, and silence hung in the air between them.

“Want to see?” Hiccup asked.

“Sure,” Astrid said. She sat up, stretching her arms over her head—she’d gotten quite comfortable while lying down—and turned to Hiccup. His eyes darted up to meet hers, his cheeks slightly reddened, and she realized he’d been checking her out as she stretched. She’d gotten used to the feeling of his eyes on her as he was drawing, but that had been simple observation, almost academic.

The look in his eyes now was anything but academic. 

She could hardly blame him—she’d gotten an eyeful while he’d had his shirt off during the storm, after all—but she still felt her cheeks warm a little beneath his gaze. His furtive looks had become decidedly less so over the last couple of days, and now, as she took the sketchbook from him, that unquantifiable, distinct feeling of being _seen_ only intensified.

The drawing was beautiful—too beautiful, she thought reflexively. He’d drawn her from the waist up. Her face, turned partway toward the viewer, was pillowed on her bent elbow, and on her face there was a small, easy smile, the sort that she wouldn’t be conscious of—and, apparently, hadn’t been conscious of. Wisps of hair loosened from her braid brushed against where tendons stretched gently in her neck, leading down to her collarbone, partially obscured by the straps of her sports bra and top, and her chest. 

The top she was wearing that day was tighter—and shorter—than most of the ones she’d brought with her, and it stretched across her breasts. Hiccup had shown that, though not in a way that made her feel like she was being ogled, just honestly. She could see how closely he’d looked at her, how his hands had shaped every line in her face and hair, the care and intensity that had gone into it. The picture wasn’t suggestive, but all the same, it was intimate, like this was the kind of pose he would’ve seen lying in bed with her. 

That thought sent a blush spreading across her face. Seeing this, Hiccup began to stammer, reaching for the sketchbook. “I—I’m sorry. It’s too much, isn’t it? Oh, gods—um…”

“No, it’s lovely,” Astrid said, meeting his gaze—and noticing, with some gratification, that he was blushing a little too. “Though I think you made me too pretty.”

“That’s not possible,” Hiccup said, his blush deepening. “I—”

“Yeah?”

“I could fill a whole sketchbook with you.”

Astrid could feel her heart start to race as she looked at him. His pupils were wide, certainly far wider than the sunny afternoon warranted, and she noticed for the first time that all the time he’d been spending in the sun had brought out his freckles more. A shallow, wavering breath drew her attention to his lips, and for the breadth of a heartbeat, she thought of what it would be like to kiss him again, to cross over to his bench and feel his hands on the bare skin between her top and the waistband of her shorts…

But instead, not quite sure what exactly was holding her back, she just handed the sketchbook back to him. “Well, I’m sure we’ll have plenty more time.”

He took the sketchbook back with a smile. “Yeah, I’m sure we will.” He flipped it shut, and then looked back up at her. “Do you want to start thinking about dinner?”

“Sure,” Astrid said. “Are you hungry?”

He shrugged. “I could eat.”

“Alright then. I’ll get things set up for the night up here. We made good time this afternoon; nice job on the wheel.”

Hiccup grinned. “Thanks.” He took his sketchbook with him as he went down into the cabin. 

Astrid stood up and tightened the main sheet. With the boom securely in place, she released the halyard and lowered the sail, doing the ties up neatly. She climbed onto the foredeck and took down the jib, stowing it away, and then returned to the main deck. 

Hiccup had made several improvements to the boat while they were on land. The first she’d noticed, of course, had been the letters on the hull spelling out _Night Fury_. There were also the rungs he’d bolted into the wall to make the climb onto the foredeck easier—and the retractable canopy over the table on deck.

“So we don’t ever have to eat belowdecks because of the rain,” he’d said when she first noticed it, but it also helped keep the sun out of their eyes. She pulled it out, shading the table, and then went back to the benches to lower the anchor for the night. 

She was still thinking about what it would have been like to kiss him. She’d done it before, of course, but that had been so long ago, when they were really just kids. He’d changed as much in that time as she had; he was taller, for one thing, but also more sure of himself. She didn’t think he’d initiate anything physical unless he was sure she wanted it, but if the look in his eyes just now had been any indication, he had very much wanted to. 

That set off butterflies in Astrid’s stomach. She remembered kissing him—of course she did—and she remembered the way, back on that first morning, when his hand had half-risen to touch her face.

She remembered the way his heart had pounded beneath her hand, all those years ago.

She wondered, idly, what his chest felt like now.

“Astrid?” Hiccup’s voice said, just a few feet away, and she jumped and turned toward the hatch. His head was poking out, and as she turned to him, he held a glass container out to her. “Could you take this?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said, bending down to take the dish. He disappeared belowdecks again, and Astrid went to the table.

Hiccup joined her a moment later, sitting across from her and handing her a fork.

“What is this?” she asked with interest. The dish was full of noodles that looked homemade, with peas, mushrooms, and pieces of chicken and zucchini mixed in. The red sauce covering everything just _looked_ like it was going to be spicy.

“Gwai wer noodles,” he said. “It’s my favorite dish from my favorite restaurant back home. I sort of stole the recipe.”

Astrid snorted. “It looks really tasty,” she said.

“Thanks. You’ll have to let me know if it came out okay; I’ve never tried freezing it before.”

It had turned out very well, and Astrid said so between bites. It was spicier than she would have expected for one of Hiccup’s favorite foods—a lot spicier—but she didn’t mind that, even if she did have to wipe at her nose a few times. 

“I just realized I haven’t asked,” Hiccup said. “How’s work been? Since you got back, I mean.”

“Oh, pretty good,” Astrid said. “It’s always good to have the summer interns. Eret’s been teasing me, though.”

“Teasing you? What about?”

Astrid sighed. “You,” she admitted.

Hiccup’s eyebrows rose. “What about me?”

“He—” She sighed again. “I guess he was driving past the waterfront when we were eating lunch that one time”—he nodded—“and that Monday at work, he asked who you were. Then when you two finally met face-to-face, he realized that the guy I’d been eating fish with was the same guy who was funding the expeditions. And… well.”

“He gave you shit about it?”

“To put it mildly. Not in a gross way,” she said. “Just, you know, a funny coincidence.”

“Yes. Completely a coincidence,” Hiccup said, his lips twitching.

She rolled her eyes. “He was disconsolate when he figured out you were straight.”

Hiccup drew in a sharp breath as he was taking a bite and choked slightly. He coughed, clearing his throat several times before he said, “I… I’m not straight.”

“You’re not?”

He shook his head. “But I guess I need to be a little more clear about when I’m flirting.”

Hiccup’s flirting was _plenty_ obvious, Astrid thought. Then she realized the implications of what he’d just said. “You were flirting with him?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Not, like, flirting with _intent_ or anything. He’s just obviously a flirt”—true enough—“and he was flirting with me, so I flirted back. But it clearly flew under the radar.”

Astrid snorted a laugh, taking another bite of noodles.

Hiccup studied her for a moment. “That’s not a problem, is it?” She got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the flirting.

“Of course not. Why would it be? My boss is gay.”

“Well, yeah,” Hiccup said. “But a lot of people have different attitudes about bi people. Bi guys especially.”

“Well, I’m not one of them,” Astrid said, a little shortly, and Hiccup looked at her for another long moment before nodding.

“I think I met one of your interns,” he said after a pause. “Izzy?”

“Oh, yeah, Izzy’s great,” Astrid said, smiling. “Smart kid, if a little weird. She’s got this knack for finding Tim.”

Hiccup’s eyebrows drew together. “Tim?”

“Our octopus.”

He nodded slowly. “And why does he need to be found?”

“He likes to escape,” Astrid said. “He gets bored, and sneaking out and hunting for exotic fish is a lot more interesting than staying in his tank all day.”

“I can relate,” Hiccup said.

“He was too badly injured to be released like we would normally do for native animals we rehabilitate,” Astrid said. “We’re trying to figure out how to get him some better enrichment for his habitat, but it’s just not—” She stopped short.

“Just not in the budget?” he suggested, and she nodded. “Hmm. Would I have met Tim when I was there with my grandma?”

“Probably not,” Astrid said. “They only live about three to five years, and Tim’s been there about a year and a half now.”

He nodded. “I see. Well, I’m glad he has a safe place to live out his days.”

Astrid nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

Later— _much_ later— Astrid was still sitting in her chair at the table on the deck, alone with her thoughts. Hiccup was downstairs, sleeping—at least, he was supposed to be sleeping, in preparation for his watch in a few hours. She’d logged the day’s events in the little notebook she’d bought for just that purpose before they’d left. Not that there was much to log; the entry for July 8 simply read, _Sunny. Dolphins (12) spotted at 10:00, humpback whales (3) at 3:15. Bubble-net feeding observed. Normal water readings taken. Gwai wer noodles for dinner.”_

There was so much the log didn’t include: the easy grin of familiarity on Hiccup’s face as he spotted the dolphins, which, for all Astrid knew, might have been the same ones they saw on their first trip; the way his eyes had opened wide, hardly blinking as he watched the bubble-net feeding (which was, Astrid had to admit, a thing of wonder to behold, even if she had seen it before); and the strange, warm feeling Astrid had felt just behind her sternum as she watched him looking at the creatures. The drawing session right before dinner certainly wouldn’t be included—that was far too personal—but hopefully the mention of dinner itself would make someone smile whenever they read the log as a supplement to the data she and Hiccup were collecting. They’d taken a video of the bubble feeding as well, which would be included in the Institute’s record of the expedition, and probably published on its website.

And the log _absolutely_ wouldn’t include the shape Astrid only thought she might have seen, moving below the humpbacks and larger than they were. It had been gone as soon as she blinked, with no time to even point it out to Hiccup, and part of Astrid doubted she’d actually seen anything at all. It was probably just her brain wanting to finally see a dragon again—wanting to be proved right—and jumping to conclusions when she’d seen a shadow roughly the right size and shape.

Still, she supposed that showing up with a pod of humpbacks would make sense. Humpbacks were friendly, after all, and often mingled with other species. The bubble-net feeding would make it easier for the dragon to eat too, and if Thunderdrums ate fish, as she and Hiccup had speculated, there shouldn’t be any aggression from their end. 

But she wasn’t even sure that was what she’d seen, and as the afternoon got farther away, it seemed less and less likely. 

She leaned back in her seat, letting out a long, slow sigh. She’d retracted the canopy after they’d finished eating dinner, and now she tilted her head back, looking up at the stars. The sky was clear, and it was a moonless night, so once she switched off her little writing lamp, the stars were the only source of light. Reflected in the mirror-smooth sea below, they seemed to surround Astrid, and with just how impossibly clear the view was, she almost felt like she could tell just by looking which of them were farther away from her.

It was impossible, of course—they were light-years away, far too distant for her to discern that difference in their depth.

For just a moment, she wondered what it would be like to fly through the sea of stars she’d found herself sitting in. 

Perhaps on dragonback.

It struck Astrid, looking into the darkness, just how very alone she was. Apart from Hiccup, who was asleep almost directly below her, there was no one around for miles and miles. There was a place in the South Pacific, she knew, where at certain times the closest humans were in the International Space Station as it passed overhead. That was far, far to the south of her, but even though she knew there were people a lot closer than space, she thought she understood that lonely distance. She found she liked the feeling, though there was a strange edge of melancholy to it.

She sat with that for a while, just looking at the stars. She found the North Star easily enough by following the tail of the Big Dipper, and of course there was Sirius, and not far away she found Orion’s Belt. There was Mars and Jupiter and Venus, and… yes, Saturn. And that… that was a satellite.

Then a sound broke the stillness, interrupting her quiet reverie. It came from belowdecks—from Hiccup. Astrid frowned toward the hatch. Maybe he wasn’t as asleep as she’d thought. The noise had sounded like a moan, of all things, and she felt like if he talked in his sleep, she would have noticed by now, especially at that volume. Was he—? She didn’t think he’d masturbated on the boat—though, she supposed, she really had no way of knowing—but at the very least he hadn’t done it when or where she could hear. 

She should probably just give him some privacy.

That idea was quickly abandoned, though, as the sounds carried on. He didn’t sound like he was enjoying himself; rather, he sounded scared, maybe even in pain, and at one point there was a very loud, distinct _“No!”_

And then Hiccup _screamed._

Before she knew it, Astrid was on her feet and down the ladder to the main cabin, standing in front of Hiccup’s door. “Hiccup?” she said, knocking on the door and wondering, absurdly, how she could have thought the sounds he was making were those of pleasure. 

There was no response apart from another groan and a “No” that made him sound very small and very, very scared. 

Swallowing hard, Astrid pulled open the door and went in.

Hiccup was lying on his back, thrashing in his sleep with the blankets tangled around his legs. He gave another long, drawn-out groan.

She rushed to the head of the bunk, her hands going to his shoulders, which, she realized now, were bare and sweaty. “Hiccup,” she said, and then, again, louder—“Hiccup!” She didn’t want to shake him, didn’t want to do anything to make him feel threatened in case he lashed out, but—

His eyes flew open. He sat up with a movement that was almost a spasm, and for the space of several ragged breaths, he stared at her, standing there with one hand still on his shoulder. “Astrid?” he finally panted.

“I’m here.” 

He nodded. Then—“Fuck,” he whispered, collapsing back onto the bed and covering his face with his hands. “Shit. Godsdammit. Godsdamned fucking shit.”

“It’s okay,” Astrid said. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Fuck,” he said again. “We’re—we’re on the boat. The _Fury.”_

“Yeah.” She sat down next to his legs, taking his hand when he let it fall into her lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said after letting out a long, shaky breath. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Astrid said. “And you don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she added hastily when he opened his mouth. “Are you okay?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I think so. I could use some air.”

“Okay,” Astrid said. She stood, bending down to pick up his prosthetic from where it had fallen on the floor. 

He huffed a laugh as she handed it to him. “Thanks. Must’ve kicked it.”

“I’ll see you up on deck,” she said, waiting for him to nod in affirmation before she went back up to the deck and curled up on one of the benches.

He followed a moment later, having donned a t-shirt. The pillow and blanket from his bed were under one arm, and he was holding a small, squat plastic tub. He sat down across from her and propped his leg up on the bench, then seemed to hesitate. “Do you mind if I massage my leg?” he asked. “It’s just, it kind of cramped, and…”

“I don’t mind,” Astrid said. She had noticed him limping. “Do you want some privacy?”

He chuckled. “No, you can stay.”

“You should’ve said something; I could have given you a hand up the steps.”

He eased the prosthetic off, breathing a sigh of mixed pain and relief, before wiggling his fingers at her. “Thanks, but a hand isn’t what I would’ve needed.”

A strange choking sound came out of Astrid’s throat, and Hiccup smiled. “It’s okay, you can laugh at that,” he said, and she did. 

He twisted the lid off the tub, and the sharp, distinctive smell of menthol wafted over to Astrid. He scooped a little of the cream onto his fingers and started rubbing it into the amputation site. 

Even trying not to stare, Astrid found herself looking at his knee and calf as he massaged them. Her night vision had adjusted, but she still couldn’t see much in the way of detail, just a thick, ropey scar that twisted up past his knee. It must be from the accident itself, she thought. Instead of lingering on it, she watched his face as he worked, his brow puckering and relaxing as the knots slowly released.

“I should have said something before now,” he said, eyes still lowered. “I… today’s the anniversary.”

“Of your mom?”

“Yeah.” He put the lid back on the tub, closing it tightly. “Anniversaries are hard.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He met her eyes with a sad smile that she knew must be the twin of the one on her own face. “How…” She paused, but Hiccup didn’t say anything, and his face was lowered as he wiped his hands off on the front of his shirt, so she couldn’t see his expression. “Can I ask what happened?”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “It was a car accident,” he finally said. “I’d just gotten my learners permit a few months before.”

“You weren’t driving, were you?” Astrid asked, horror rising in her throat.

“No,” he said. “And it wouldn’t have been my fault if I was. We were on our way home from the city, driving on the freeway, and the other driver hopped the median and hit us almost head-on. I wasn’t comfortable driving in the city.” He laughed a little. “Honestly, I’m still not. I didn’t get my license until the summer I did the roof, and you were actually the first person I got in a car with who wasn’t a family member.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. For asking. And for what happened.”

He nodded. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Have you talked to your dad about it?” she asked, remembering how much talking with her dad had helped on the anniversary of her mom’s death. 

Hiccup looked down again. “No, I, uh… I haven’t talked to my dad in a few months. Not since I moved out here.”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “He didn’t think it was a good idea for me to move into my grandma’s house and start pouring all my time and money into refurbishing it. He thought I should have just sold it and not bothered.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get away. After… after everything, I guess I wanted the same thing you did, to just disappear and start over. And like I said, I could imagine making a life here. Plus there was the dragons. And…” He met her gaze, looking vulnerable in ways that had nothing to do with the fact that he was in his pajamas, or that she’d just heard him screaming in his sleep. It was a hopeful kind of vulnerable, one that held notes of wanting and that same warmth she’d smelled on his skin all those weeks ago, and looking at it, Astrid felt something unfurl in her chest that she hadn’t been aware of for a long time.

_Oh._

She’d been so focused on her own walls, on trying to keep him away from everything inside her that stung, that was still painful to the touch and seemed to start bleeding anew at every provocation, that she hadn’t noticed he was hurting too, that he’d had walls up just as much as she did.

That feeling that she’d had before, in the bar and while he was drawing her, and, she was realizing now, a hundred tiny times besides, of being seen, of being _known_ came flooding back.

And now she was seeing him too.

“I’m glad you did,” she said.

His lips quirked. “Even though I’m wasting my potential?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He nodded, silently accepting the apology. Astrid stood, padding across the deck to stand in front of Hiccup. He looked up at her, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re not wasting anything.”

Impulsively, she leaned down and hugged him, feeling his long arms wind around her shoulders. It was overwhelming—the last time she’d hugged anyone besides her dad had been at her mom’s funeral, and the sensation of lean muscles against hers and the warmth of his hands and just being held filled her head. She took comfort from it, even as she was trying to comfort him, even as she knew she shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as she was. She sat down next to him, adjusting her hold, and felt him press his face into her shoulder. His hair tickled her neck, and she shut his eyes as his smell, the fresh cleanness from his shower after dinner only slightly tinged with sweat, and still with that distinct but undefinable note of wildness, filled her nostrils. 

They sat like that for a long time, between the stars and their reflection in the sea, just holding each other. They’d never touched like this before, and for a moment Astrid registered the strangeness of never having hugged someone who’d been her friend for nine years, whom she’d _kissed._ But then she let herself relax, just enjoying the closeness as he too adjusted his grip, pulling her more firmly against him. 

Yes, she was hurt. She was damaged, and so was Hiccup.

But in that moment, in that perfect, starry night, Astrid Hofferson was very happy indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting there, slowly but surely. 
> 
> Hope you liked it! As always, feedback and comments are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> (Also, if anyone's been trying to figure out exactly what year this takes place in, there are a couple of hints in this chapter.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning brought cloudy skies that promised rain. Instead, though, they cleared by noon, leaving Astrid sweating in the fleece vest and long-sleeved t-shirt she’d put on when she got up, when getting soaked had seemed rather likely. She’d been working on her laptop for the last hour or so, transcribing and neatening the data she’d written down that morning while taking water readings and studying the little creatures—mainly krill—that had come up with the water in the plastic container she’d used. They were the stragglers of one of the day’s great daily migrations from the surface down to the depths, but despite this, they seemed healthy enough as they zipped through the water. Several had molted, leaving their discarded exoskeletons at the bottom of the plastic tub, and when Astrid dumped the water back into the ocean, they’d vanished instantly.

Now, satisfied with her spreadsheet, she shut her laptop with a gentle click. Hiccup, absorbed in his medical journal across from her, only glanced up at her with a small smile.

She was just about to say that she was going down to her cabin to change—she would need to take down her laptop at some point and store the rest of her equipment—when another idea occurred to her. 

“It’s so warm,” she said, reaching for the zipper of her vest, and _that_ sound _definitely_ got his attention. He pulled up one eyebrow as she slipped the vest down off her shoulders, letting it fall to drape across the seat behind her. She could still feel dampness where the sun had been hitting her across her shoulders, though, so she pulled off the long-sleeved t-shirt too, leaving her in just her tank top. A smile was playing across Hiccup’s face when she looked back up at him. She shot him a challenging look, as though asking, _What?_

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said—which was a lie, he’d been pushing up his sleeves and fidgeting all morning—and then he was reaching for the back of his collar, pulling his sweater up and off over his head. The gray cotton t-shirt beneath came up with it, almost coming off entirely. With it bunched up under his armpits, she could see most of his torso, including, she could see now, a scar that stretched around the left side of his ribs. She hadn’t noticed it before, but considering that she’d been freshly concussed the only other time she’d seen him shirtless, that wasn’t too surprising. Her gaze darted back up to his face as he pulled the shirt back down, and when he met her gaze she saw him blush. “Sorry,” he said.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Astrid said, smiling, and the blush deepened. 

His lips curled in an answering smile. His eyes drifted, losing none of their intensity as they studied her mouth. Their eyes caught again, and a moment later he started to lean across the table toward her—and then, as though he was catching himself in the middle of something he shouldn’t be doing, he stiffened, sitting back in his seat again. With one last glance, which looked almost apologetic for some reason, he returned to his reading, although she could see a flush creeping up his neck from beneath the gray cotton of his t-shirt.

The afternoon passed as it usually did, with the two of them occupying themselves on deck as they traveled across the waves, speaking occasionally. It was Astrid’s turn to manage the sails, and as she did so, keeping an eye out for any creatures that might appear, marine or draconic, she kept finding her gaze getting pulled back to Hiccup. He was still sitting at the table, occasionally turning the page and slowly emptying the French press of coffee that sat in front of him mug by mug. He didn’t look at her, at least not when she was looking at him, but she was finding it hard to think of anything except him. 

He’d almost kissed her. 

He’d _definitely_ wanted to.

That made twice he’d started to lean in, and at least three times—that she knew of, though it was probably more—that he’d wanted to. The first time, that first morning on the _Fury,_ he’d been startled by the toaster going off, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he’d stopped himself just now. 

And, as she realized, she really wouldn’t have minded if she had. 

That thought almost scared her. She didn’t know why, exactly, and she knew it didn’t make sense—she’d thought about kissing him too, after all—but something about the vulnerability of being the one _getting kissed_ made her heart start rising into her throat. 

She looked back out over the water, trying not to think about that and especially not about going over to the table and sitting in his lap and kissing him soundly—because whether or not he’d _wanted_ to kiss her, he’d specifically chosen _not_ to—instead scanning the horizon. She was looking for anything really—and then her eye actually caught on something, just a dark smudge on the horizon, and she was lurching to her feet with a gasp that made Hiccup look up at her, his eyes wide.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, keeping her eyes trained on the spot. “Do you have binoculars?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, and then he was coming up beside her, holding out a set of binoculars. She took them and quickly found the object again, adjusting the focus until the image went clear. Then she just stood there, staring, for a long moment. “Do you see anything?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I—I think it’s an island.”

“There shouldn’t be one,” he said, almost to himself, and somehow Astrid wasn’t surprised he knew that off the top of his head. “Where?”

She pointed. “Southwest.” She lowered the binoculars, hanging them around her neck by their strap.

“Think we should check it out?”

She turned to look at him, standing so close beside her that she could feel his warmth, and was unable to suppress a smile. “You want to?”

He gave a shrug-nod. “You’re the captain.”

“Let’s do it,” she said, and Hiccup grinned. She took the wheel, feeling her heart thudding inside her, and turned them just slightly southward. As she did so, they fell off the wind, and the sails went slack. “Could you—” she started, but Hiccup was already reaching for the main sheet. “Thanks,” she said, smiling, and he glanced back at her, his own crooked smile widening in a way that made her stomach flutter.

 _Oh, fuck,_ she couldn’t help thinking, and even when he turned away to adjust the jib, that smile stayed burning in her mind’s eye.

They got to the island just as the sun was starting to set. It was quite small, and as they got close, Astrid could see that it was low, just barely poking above the surface of the water, with no vegetation that she could see on its dark surface.

“It must have just recently formed,” Hiccup said, as though reading her mind, and she nodded.

“Volcanic soil, though. So it should be pretty fertile.”

“If it lasts that long.”

It was a trifle unsettling to think about the volcanic caldera that lay hundreds or thousands of feet below them. It was probably several miles across, lava no doubt bubbling up still, hardening in the cold water. Consciously, though, she knew it wasn’t an immediate or serious danger, and so she didn’t say anything about it to Hiccup. She slowed the boat as they approached, drawing it up parallel to the shore as close as she could without running them aground. When she lowered the anchor, the water didn’t _seem_ that deep, but unless she wanted to measure properly, which she didn’t, there was really only one way to be sure.

“Is it okay to get your leg wet?” she asked, eyeing Hiccup. “You might have to if we go ashore.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s waterproof.” His eyes glittered. “Do you want to have a campfire?”

“A—you have wood?”

He shrugged. “I thought something like this might happen.”

“You thought—” She stopped herself before she was just parroting back what he’d said. “Sure. A campfire sounds nice.”

He grinned at her. “Great. I’ll put a bag together.” He vanished belowdecks, and Astrid heard a door open into what must be the small storage compartment, a crawlspace really, at the back of the boat. When he came back up a minute or so later, he was carrying a bulging zip-top waterproof bag that apparently held their firewood. “I brought dinner too,” he said when he saw her looking. “Wrapped the containers up in blankets so they wouldn’t get scratched.”

“Good thought,” Astrid said—blankets would be nice for sitting in front of the fire too. She finished securing the mainsail to the boom and dusted her hands off, then went to the side of the boat. She shot a grin over her shoulder at him, and there was no denying the sharp intake of breath he gave at that. “Now, let’s find out how deep this is.”

The first shock of water was _cold_ when she plunged in, knocking her breath half out of her, and when she resurfaced with a gasp, she remembered, perhaps a little belatedly, that she was still in the northern Pacific, farther north even than the town where she’d grown up. She got her feet under her and found that the water was only shoulder-deep, which meant that she’d really cut it close with the boat’s draft, but oh well. She held her hands out for the bag, and Hiccup lowered it to her. Then he was in the water next to her, spluttering as he pushed wet hair out of his face. 

“You know, there’s a ladder,” he said a moment later.

“Well, yes,” Astrid admitted. “Which is how we’ll get back on the boat.”

He snorted but didn’t seem to have any further argument. They sloshed ashore, Astrid carrying the bag and Hiccup keeping a hand on one of her shoulders. It was more than a little strange to walk on land again after almost a week at sea, and Astrid was a little unsteady on her feet. It made sense that Hiccup needed a little extra support, and she certainly didn’t mind. A little ways from the water’s edge, they found a spot that would be good for a fire.

Hiccup set to work, and by the time the sun was setting in earnest, there was a fire crackling merrily, the glass containers holding their dinner sitting on the ground nearby to heat up. 

Astrid was starting to think about warming up herself; now that they’d stopped moving, she was shivering in her wet clothes, much as she tried not to. Hiccup looked cold too, his shoulders hunched as he sat in front of the fire. He caught her eye, apparently noticing the shivers she was failing to suppress, and tossed her one of the blankets he’d wrapped their food in. 

“I won’t stare if you don’t,” he said, and promptly stripped off his soaking-wet shirt. 

He was right—even with the fire, they’d warm up a lot faster out of their wet clothes. Part of Astrid’s brain, which she quickly shushed, pointed out that they would warm up faster still if they were under the same blanket. A little startled, she _did_ find herself staring for a moment, registering dimly that his nipples had gone hard from the cold. He smirked at her, drawing his blanket around his shoulders, and she wrapped herself in her own blanket. Her tank top came off first, followed by her shorts, and from within the shelter of her blanket, she laid them out on the ground beside her. Hiccup was doing the same a few feet away, squirming as he extricated his legs from his wet trousers. She couldn’t help but giggle, and though he met her gaze with a bemused expression, a moment later he was laughing too. 

She left her undies on; from what she could see, Hiccup had as well, and although her boobs were still cold, the thin cotton of her sports bra should dry before too long. It struck her that she probably wouldn’t be comfortable doing this with almost any other guy, but with Hiccup, she felt completely safe in nothing but her underwear and a blanket.

They sat by the fire, huddled under their blankets, and talked as the sun set. By the time the sauce on their dinner—chicken parmesan again—was starting to bubble, Astrid was just about warm. She kept the blanket around her shoulders as she ate, though, for modesty’s sake at the very least. She found that using a corner to hold her dish kept her hands from getting burned, though, and while Hiccup spent most of the time respectfully averting his gaze, after a few minutes, he saw her improvised potholder and adopted it as well. But even modesty became rather a moot point as the night grew dark, and when she glanced over at Hiccup again, she was greeted by the sight of firelight dancing on skin. A _lot_ of skin. He was looking up, his eyes on the stars he was so endlessly enthralled by and which were just starting to peep through the dusk. As she watched, he lay back on his blanket. 

She followed suit, keeping her blanket wrapped around herself, and a moment later she heard him give a long, contented sigh. “It never gets old, does it?”

“Never,” she replied honestly.

They were quiet for a minute or so before he said, “You know, I still think about that night all the time.”

She knew the night he meant. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Her heart was thudding. 

“Was that your first kiss?”

“You mean—”

“Yeah.”

She hesitated for a moment before she said, “Yeah. Yours?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled ruefully. “It wasn’t like girls were exactly lining up. Or boys, for that matter.”

“When did that change?”

“You think that’s changed?” After a long moment in which Astrid refrained from pointing out that she personally knew _at least_ two people who would gladly get in line, given the chance, he said, “But yeah, that night—both those nights, they were just amazing.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I’d never heard anyone cuss like that before.”

He laughed beside her. It was perhaps a slightly disingenuous answer, but he seemed to know that as well as she did. “The consequences of sending a fifteen-year-old boy to work in a mechanic’s shop, I guess.”

“I’ll never forget the look on Snotlout Jorgenson’s face when I called him a… well, a couple of the things you said to the engine. Or our gym teacher’s face when she walked into the room behind him.”

That made him laugh harder. “Oh, gods. Did you get in trouble?”

“Yep,” Astrid said, a little proud despite herself. “Suspended for a week. He was too, though.”

“Oh, Thor and his thunder,” Hiccup said breathlessly. “Maybe that’s why that Jason kid was such a gentleman when he dropped you off after prom—he was too scared not to be.”

Astrid snorted. “Well, if it works, it works.”

They lapsed into silence, and on an impulse, Astrid extracted one hand from her blanket and stretched it toward Hiccup. It collided with his hand, which was apparently doing the same thing, and they both gasped and jerked back for a moment before chuckling nervously and twining their fingers together. 

“Can I ask you something?” Astrid asked.

“Sure.”

“Do you… I mean, what happened last night, does that happen a lot?”

His hand tensed slightly in hers, and when he spoke, his voice was falsely light, like he was trying to make a joke of it. “Why, are you worried about a repeat?”

“No,” she said. “Just… concerned. In general, I guess.”

He sighed. “No, not—not really. Not anymore, at least. I think last night was just because it was the anniversary, and I was thinking about you losing your mom too. It honestly hadn’t happened for years before that.”

She squeezed his hand. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He squeezed back. “It’s okay.”

“You can ask me a hard one if you want to.”

Hiccup laughed softly. “Alright.” He paused. “What happened with Heather?”

A hand closed around Astrid’s heart, much colder than the one currently holding her hand. She swallowed hard before speaking. “I… it was my fault. She and her boyfriend broke up, and I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I didn’t know how. I tried, but I couldn’t, I was just too wrapped up in the stuff with my mom, and she got upset. And after that, I didn’t think she needed me in her life if I couldn’t even do that very basic thing for her.”

“So you just made that decision for her?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not.” After a moment, he went on, “She feels like it’s her fault too.”

“What?” She twisted to look at him, but he was staring up at the sky. “You’ve talked to her about it?”

“Yeah. After we got back from the first trip.”

Astrid was struggling a little to figure out how she felt about that. She didn’t say anything, turning her face back up to the sky.

“Are you okay?” Hiccup asked.

“I think so.”

“Astrid, Heather isn’t angry at you. I don’t even think she has been since that first night. And I… I know you don’t think people care about you. But they do. Heather does. Eret does. Ever since she found out we were friends, Phlegma’s asked me about you every time she’s seen me. Maybe you don’t want them to care about you so that it’s easier for you to leave, but they do. I do. And—”

“Hiccup—”

“Sorry.”

“No, what were you going to say?”

“Does it matter?”

Despite herself, she smiled a little. “I think so.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ve been trying not to let my feelings put pressure on you. You’re going through something really difficult, and I’m trying to help, but what you do next is up to you. It has to be your choice.”

“Is that why you keep stopping yourself from kissing me?”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. I guess I haven’t been doing the best job at holding back.”

She rolled toward him, letting the blanket fall away as she pushed herself up on one elbow to look down at him. “And what are your feelings?”

He met her gaze. “You want to know?”

“Yes.”

He let his gaze fall toward the fire. “Astrid, you mean so much to me. The day we met, I was just this scared little kid who was so angry at the world and in pain all the time, and it was like my life just shifted, and I knew what I was supposed to do. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I was sixteen years old, and I still can’t stop thinking about you. But I know that day changed things for you too, and not in a good way. I want you to be happy, and if that means leaving, I don’t want to be the thing that holds you back.”

Astrid swallowed. She didn’t have the words for the feelings that were coursing through her. “Hiccup?”

“Yeah?” He lifted his eyes to meet hers again, his gaze soft and intense all at once. 

“Can I kiss you?”

He nodded, already reaching for her, and then she was kissing him. His mouth was soft and so impossibly warm beneath hers, his hair just as soft as she’d imagined it would be when she slid her fingers through it. She could feel his hands on her back, big and warm and callused, pulling her closer until their chests were pressed together. Their tongues met, and he groaned against her as she slipped one hand down to find that his chest felt very nice indeed.

It was like a dam was crumbling inside Astrid. Everything she’d kept behind it was coming rushing out—every ounce of passion and hope and joy that had bubbled up in her at seeing him again, that strange, unspoken, singular bond that had formed between them when they saw the dragon, and, yes, lust, pure unadulterated wanting that burned low in her belly—all of it. She didn’t have it in her to hold back any longer, to stop any of it from coming out in the way she was kissing him, but then he didn’t exactly seem to mind. If they’d been wearing clothes, they would have been torn off in seconds. Part of Astrid wished that was the case just so she could slip her hand up under Hiccup’s shirt and pull it off him. It did have its advantages, though, as there was no way to conceal the ways they were affecting each other. He jerked and gasped at the way her hand brushed over his nipple, and she arched more firmly against him with a low moan as his palm skimmed across her side.

They kissed until they were dizzy, pulling apart and laughing with breathless delight for a moment before he pulled her back down to him. She could feel something firm and insistent pressing against her hip where one of her legs had slipped between his, but as he started to turn them, the sand shifted beneath them, and she pulled her mouth away for just a moment. “If you wanna do this, we should head back to the boat,” she said, half panting.

He nodded as well as he could with her mouth at his throat. “Yeah. Case the tide— _fuck_ —in case the tide changes, we don’t want to have to swim for it.”

Astrid had to admit that was a very valid concern, although it hadn’t been the one that motivated her. She’d learned the hard way about all the places sand could get during sex, and had no real desire to repeat the experience. 

They didn’t bother getting dressed, since it would only mean getting their clothes wet again. Instead, the mostly-dry clothes went into the bag with the blankets and food containers. They left the fire as it was—it had mostly burned out while they were rolling around, and besides, it wasn’t like a little more ash was going to to make a difference on this island anyway.

Astrid went up the ladder at the boat’s stern first, setting the bag on the deck and then turning to give Hiccup a hand. She could tell, as he gathered her close to him to carry on kissing her, that the cold water had killed his erection stone dead, but at least they hadn’t submerged completely this time, so warming up wouldn’t take as long. And given the way his hands were roaming her wet skin and his breath was starting to go ragged, she didn’t think he’d take too long to get hard again either.

After a second, though, he stepped back. “Hang on,” he said. “I have condoms in my cabin, let me go grab them.”

“You have condoms?” Astrid asked, her brow furrowing. “What, were you expecting this to happen?”

He sighed. “No, not—not expecting it, but hoping, I guess? And I didn’t want to not be prepared in case it did.”

Well, she could hardly fault him for that. She nodded. “Okay.”

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was gone, she took the blankets out of the bag and spread them out on the deck between the benches, laughing to herself at the fact that neither of them had even suggested going to one of their berths for this—they were hardly big enough for one person, let alone two. She heard a step on the stairs and turned, and there he was, still mostly naked, a box of condoms in hand. A shiver ran up her spine, not just from the cold, and a second later, he was there, running his hands over her arms. 

“You’re cold,” he said. “Come on, let’s get warm.” He pulled her down with him onto the blankets, wrapping his arms around her, and for a second she thought he was just going to hold her. Then his mouth was on hers again, hot and eager as he wrapped the blanket around them both. 

What with the blankets and body heat, it didn’t take long for them to warm up, and as they did, their kisses got a little more playful and their touches more exploratory, until Astrid was letting out little moans at the feeling of Hiccup’s hand palming her breast through her sports bra, and he was panting against her neck as she ground her hips against him. She reached down to pull off her underwear, and realizing what she was doing, he wriggled out of his boxers too. She took a moment to just look at him, naked on his back before her, before kneeling astride his legs and reaching for the condoms. His cock was nudging against the inside of her thigh; she took it in one hand and gave it a few long, slow strokes. His head fell back as he groaned softly, and Astrid tore open the condom, rolling it down over his shaft with practiced movements. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, peering up at her.

She nodded, grinning cheekily. “You can check if you want.”

A second later, his hand was on her, his fingers slipping over her until he found her clit. Her cheeky grin gone now, she let out a few sharp moans as he moved and then bit her bottom lip, looking down at him. Even in the starlight, she could see the slightly awestruck look on his face, the way his eyes were dark with desire. One of his fingers slipped inside her, and then he was the one biting back a moan as she squeezed down on him. She wrapped her fingers around his cock again, relishing in the way it pulsed against her hand. Getting the message, and apparently satisfied that she was ready for him, he pulled his hand away to let her guide him inside her.

She sank down on him, feeling him fill her inch by inch until they came flush. Her moans were met by answering ones from him that came out throaty and low, almost guttural. His eyes had shut at some point; now, as she started to move on top of him, they opened again. He didn’t seem to know where to look, going from her face to her breasts to the place where he was sliding in and out of her, to her increasingly ruined braid where it hung over one shoulder. He tugged at her sports bra, which, damp as it still was, took some doing to get off, but after a moment’s pause, she managed to pull it off over her head. The feeling of his big, warm hands on the cold skin of her nipples made her gasp, sending a shudder all through her. 

“I felt that,” he said, chuckling slightly, and she smiled. 

His hands slipped down to her waist, keeping them in sync as she started to move faster, to fuck herself harder on his cock. His hips rolled up into her, filling her over and over again. If she’d thought his mouth was dirty before, she quickly learned that that was nothing as he half-babbled encouragements and curses alike that wove through her ragged breaths like counterpoint. Astrid watched Hiccup start to come apart beneath her, feeling her own climax start to build inside her as he swore and gasped.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” she said, and Hiccup practically glowed. Then it was her turn to gasp as his fingers landed on her clit again, moving with each of their thrusts and sending her hurtling toward the end. 

Finally, with one last thrust that hit just right, she came, spasming and clenching down on him with a cry that echoed across the dark, gentle waves. 

She was vaguely aware of him coming too, his hands gripping hard on her hips as his own hips stuttered and jerked, and then he was pulling her down so he could kiss her, using one hand to grip the base of the condom as he pulled out.

They lay there for several minutes, just exchanging lazy kisses as they giggled and whispered at each other, until finally Hiccup wrinkled his nose. “I think we should shower,” he said. “No offense, but you taste like salt.”

Astrid laughed. “Yeah, you do too. Why do you think I didn’t suck your dick?”

 _That_ lit a fresh spark of interest in his eyes, and as he pulled her in for another kiss, she thought that maybe she should’ve waited to put that image in his head until he didn’t have to wait for them to both shower first.

* * *

She woke with a jerk as something heavy landed on the boat, making it rock almost haphazardly. She pushed herself up in the nest Hiccup had built for them while she was in the shower the night before, using the cushions, several blankets, and the pillows from both their beds, not quite dislodging his arm from where it was wrapped around her waist as she sat, staring at the creature that was sitting slightly precariously on the back of the boat.

It was a dragon.

And it was staring right back at her with wide yellow eyes.

A crown of spikes ranged across the back of its head, with another long spike curving up from its nose. Teeth protruded from its mouth. It cocked its head, fluttering its wings and then shuffling them neatly into place on its back, looking for all the world like a giant parrot. Its scales were deep green, patterned with lighter green as well as swirls of steel blue and bright, vibrant golden yellow, and its gaze held the most focused look of curiosity she’d ever seen. 

“Hiccup,” Astrid hissed. He only grumbled, wrapping his arm tighter around her and cuddling into her back— _light sleeper, my ass_ —until she elbowed him and said, louder, “Hiccup! Wake up!”

He stirred, presumably opening his eyes, and then sat bolt upright next to her. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, goggling at the dragon and suddenly looking a lot more awake than he had been just a second ago.

“Hiccup, what is that?” Astrid asked, holding very still. She had the feeling that any sudden movement would startle the dragon. 

“I believe,” he said, his voice hushed and almost reverent, “that is what the people of New Berk would call a Deadly Nadder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it; we had a few pretty big developments this chapter. If you want to leave a comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

The Deadly Nadder kept staring at them for what felt like an eternity. 

Blinking its big yellow eyes, it studied them where they lay on the deck, huddled together and defenseless, and, as Astrid was becoming increasingly aware the longer its gaze lingered, _very_ naked. It kept cocking its head like it was trying to get a better look at them. Astrid felt her muscles starting to tense as she prepared to—well, she wasn’t sure _what_ exactly, but if she had to defend herself and Hiccup, she would do whatever she had to. But Hiccup’s hand on her lower back stilled her, and when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, he seemed calm. 

“I think it’s just curious,” he said. “It’s not gonna hurt us. Just don’t startle it.”

This proved to be correct. A moment later, the Nadder fluttered its wings again, and giving a loud, shrill squawk, it rocketed into the sky on emerald wings. The boat rocked so violently that Astrid was thrown onto her back again, hard enough to bruise, and she grabbed onto the bench next to her to drag herself to her feet. She stared after the dragon. Behind her, Hiccup was scrabbling around on hands and knees, and when he pulled himself onto the bench next to her, he was holding a digital compass. His eyes flicked between the compass and the dragon’s retreating form, and when the Nadder vanished into the clouds, he clicked a button on the compass’s side, locking in the heading. 

“Are we chasing it?” Astrid asked.

“Her,” Hiccup said, meeting her gaze. The look in his eyes sent a thrill up her spine. “We’re chasing her.”

“How can you tell?”

He reached for his leg, slipping it on with a small grunt of what might be pain. “The nose spike. It’s longer on females. At least, I think so.”

“You all right?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I’m just supposed to put the prosthetic on right when I first wake up so that my leg doesn’t swell up when I start moving around. Kind of a moot point this morning though.”

Astrid nodded, then looked back at the spot in the clouds where the Nadder had disappeared. “Looks like she was heading northwest.”

“I’m guessing she’s going back to her nest.” His eyebrows furrowed. “I wonder why she stopped.”

“Maybe she saw our fire last night. I’m sure it’s pretty unusual for two humans to show up and spend the night talking and laughing and—well.” He huffed a laugh beside her. “Hopefully we can get to her nest in the next three days. That’s when we’ll have to turn around.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” he said. “We’ve got food for another three weeks.” When she met his eyes incredulously, he shrugged. “There was room in the freezer, and I didn’t want to run out of food if we got lost or something. There’s fishing equipment too if it comes to that.”

Astrid felt a smile spreading over her face, and was unable to stop the laugh bubbling up in her throat. “Well, okay then. That definitely expands our range.”

Hiccup snorted with laughter, and the mood shifted abruptly. Now that they’d gotten past their first response of jumping into action—now that they’d decided to _go_ —excitement bubbled over, and they fell into each other’s arms, giggling and making exclamations of pure, giddy energy as they just hugged for a long moment.

It was at this point, feeling his skin on hers and then glancing down, that Astrid remembered they were both still naked. She’d forgotten, somehow, with all the rushing around and discussion of preparation. Following her eyes downward, Hiccup seemed to come to the same realization; when their gazes met again, desire was glimmering deep in the emerald green of his eyes. She knew it must be written just as clearly across her own face.

“Do you want to—”

“—start giving chase in just a bit?”

Smiling, he lifted one hand to gently brush her hair away from her face. He ran his fingers through its lengths, watching the way it moved in the light, and then trailed his fingertips back up along her arm. Her breath hitched, and his eyes returned to hers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You are too.” Her fingers dusted over the freckles on his nose and cheeks, mimicking the way they’d moved while spreading aloe on his sunburn all those weeks before.

He snorted. “Please, I know I’m scrawny.”

“You’re really not,” she said, running her hands down over his neck and chest, which was a bit skinny, yes, but certainly not _scrawny._ And he’d shown that he was stronger than he looked. 

A smile was stealing over his face, but he still looked a bit doubtful. She’d just have to convince him, she thought as he pulled her into a kiss, soft and slow and sweet, that sent her head spinning. The scratch of his stubble was new; he hadn’t shaved last night, and she found she quite liked the sensation as he gently pulled her down with him onto the cushions of their little nest, dropping kisses across her neck and chest and shoulders. 

On the deck of the _Fury,_ in the still-pale light of dawn, Astrid moaned as Hiccup’s mouth fell to her throat. She reached up to run her hands along his back, feeling the wiry muscles flex and shift beneath her fingers and exulting in their shared joy at finally _—finally!—_ finding what they’d spent all this time waiting to see.

* * *

Privately, though, Astrid was having a bit of a crisis.

Not about Hiccup—well, mostly not about Hiccup—but nonetheless, after they’d eaten breakfast and gotten dressed, and Hiccup had taken his spot at the wheel, she crawled up onto the foredeck. She sawt cross-legged in the shadow of the jib sail, staring at the waves that were vanishing beneath their hull and trying to wrap her brain around what she’d seen that morning.

Dragons were real.

She’d been _right._

For years, she genuinely hadn’t been sure. She’d known what she’d seen, of course, but she’d also known that dragons weren’t real, _couldn’t_ be real, that the very idea of having seen one was absolutely ludicrous. And those two certainties had battled within her, both of them so true, so ingrained, that neither one could win.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize that talking about it would only prolong the experience of her claims being laughed at by her classmates and—possibly worse—gently refuted by her parents and teachers and therapists, of seeing that awful look of sadness and fear and worry in her mother’s eyes no matter how much she tried to hide it, of knowing, just as surely as she _knew_ what she’d seen, she that she wasn’t ever going to be able to convince anyone that it was true.

And so, eventually, she’d started to doubt it too. 

She hadn’t told anyone about the dragon when she went to college, not even as a funny story about something she’d done as a kid. Of course she hadn’t—she’d wanted to leave the disbelief behind along with the town. And she’d had a break from it for almost four years, from the stares and laughs, from all of it, only returning for holidays. She hadn’t even gone home for summer after that first one, instead picking up jobs and internships so she could stay in a seaside town so like the one she’d grown up in, and yet so different too. It wasn’t a city, really—she’d still never lived in a city—but it was big enough to support a university. Which was more than her hometown could say. No one at college had known, and that was exactly how she’d wanted it. 

By the time she returned, the adults had mostly forgotten, and the kids she’d grown up with had either moved away or lost interest in her. 

Well, except Heather. But she’d managed to mess that one up anyway.

Eret hadn’t heard the story to begin with, and so the dragon hadn’t really come up again after she came back. At least, not until Hiccup showed up. The memory of that rejection had stayed with her, though, and had come back all the stronger when she realized she was stuck. As she stared out at the sea day after day and didn’t see anything but waves and rocks and, on occasion, whales, she grew more and more isolated too. And, as she had before, she’d started to doubt herself, started to doubt that she’d seen a dragon after all.

But she _had_ —she had when she was sixteen, and she had again this morning, only a couple of hours ago. She couldn’t deny it any longer, even if she wanted to.

And Hiccup had seen it too.

Astrid peered under the jib at him. He didn’t look up; he was sitting on his bench, looking down at his sketchbook with a look of fixed concentration on his face. No doubt he was working on his solar sails again, though he’d mentioned that he would need to use a computer to design them properly. The compass was sitting on the bench next to him. As she watched, he put his pencil down and picked up the compass, glancing forward to make sure they were still going the right way. He caught sight of her face peeking out at him from under the sail and smiled. She smiled back, feeling her face go warm. He beckoned to her, and she ducked under the jib, crawling across the foredeck. She could feel his eyes on her as she climbed down onto the main deck, and when she turned to face him, he didn’t look away, instead studying her with open admiration.

“Hi,” she said, going to the bench. She bent down and kissed him, the feeling still rather novel. His eyes were warm as she pulled away, and when she sat down next to him, he set aside his sketchbook. 

“Well, hello, milady. What can I do for you?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Could you tell me more about dragons?”

“Oh.” This didn’t seem to be what he was expecting. He blinked. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Well, first of all, what’s a Night Fury?”

His brows drew together. “How’d you know that was a reference to a dragon?”

She shrugged. “I just figured.”

“Fair enough. Do you remember that praise poem I mentioned about that warlord called Ragnar?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so it says the leader of the New Berkians rode a dragon that was black as night, faster and fiercer than anything Ragnar’s forces had ever seen, with a sort of sharp, whistling cry that—and I quote—‘split the air and chilled the soul.’” A shiver ran up Astrid’s spine. She had no doubt that the dragons they’d seen so far were dangerous, but that sounded like something else altogether. A smile, quite different than the one before, was spreading across his face. “New Berk’s Book of Dragons talks about something just like that. I couldn’t touch it since it’s so delicate, but Fishlegs showed me a few pages. It was so cool—you could actually see where they’d added things as they learned more. There were two sets of handwriting, one that scratched things out and made corrections to the other. The first writer left the pages mostly blank, but the second filled in the empty space with all kinds of information and a bunch of drawings.”

“How do you know the writing and the drawings were from the same person?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a hunch, I guess. But I’d be willing to bet they were, and that they were also the Night Fury’s rider. It seemed like the artist knew their subject pretty well.”

After a moment, Astrid nodded, accepting this. “Okay. I guess that makes sense.”

“There was only one section that the second author left unaltered,” Hiccup said. He paused for dramatic effect before going on, “‘The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance: hide and pray it does not find you.’”

“Fucking hell,” Astrid breathed.

“Right?” The look of giddy enthusiasm on his face was, she thought, not quite apropos to the subject at hand.

“So who was this leader?”

“Do you know who the leader of the Vikings was at the Battle of Maldon?”

Astrid did not know this, for several reasons. She shook her head, brow furrowed. 

“It doesn’t say in the text of the poem,” he said. “Either poem. I’m sure New Berk has a chronicle or something that talks about them, but I wasn’t privy to that. It probably has some details about the Hidden World too, which of course Fishlegs wouldn’t want to disclose to me.”

“The Hidden World,” Astrid said. “Where the dragons went.”

“Right. And apparently, their ancestral home too.”

“Do you think he knows where it is?”

Hiccup shrugged. “Maybe. He told me no one had ever found it.”

“But that’s where we’re heading now. Isn’t it?”

He met her gaze, something like worry in his eyes, and nodded. “Yes, if that Nadder is going where I think she’s going.”

Astrid took a deep breath. They were following a dragon into her lair, into her refuge, going farther than any human had in at least a thousand years. Or, perhaps, farther than any human had gone ever before.

“He said it was like a waterfall at the end of the world,” Hiccup said, his voice full of something almost like wonder. 

It seemed impossible, far too fantastical to actually be happening. But it was. They were going to the Hidden World.

“Wait a second,” she said after a moment. “You said Night Furies are black, right?”

“Yeah, why?” He looked confused.

“But the boat’s red.”

Hiccup threw his head back, laughing.

* * *

**October, Nine Years Earlier**

“Astrid. Hey. Hey Astrid.”

With a sigh, Astrid looked up from the math homework she was trying to get done before her class next period. She was working in the school library, during the free hour she had while Heather was in drama class. A glance to the circulation desk confirmed her fears—the librarian wasn’t there. No doubt she’d gone to the bathroom, not anticipating any trouble since Astrid was sitting by herself and working quietly.

Snotlout Jorgenson was standing next to her desk, wearing an arrogant, overconfident grin and his letterman’s jacket. His friends the Thorston twins were nowhere to be seen, but he probably figured he didn’t need them for backup just to bother Astrid. 

It galled her that he was right. 

“What do you want?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

He leaned against the edge of her desk, ignoring the way her hand was tightening around her pencil. “Oh, nothing much. I was just thinking about when you saw that—”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me, remember?”

“Oh my gods, Astrid, _relax._ The principal loves me, he isn’t going to do anything.”

With a loud click, Astrid set her pencil down on her desk. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh, come on, Astrid. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper from boiling over. “What?”

“You’ve gone out on your dad’s boat since this summer, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“And, I mean, have you—did you _see_ Old Bartholomew again?” 

Astrid’s jaw clenched, and she felt her hands curl into fists. He hadn’t been the first one to call the dragon Old Bartholomew—that had been the boy sitting behind her in the class where Snotlout had first brought it up—but he’d embraced the name wholeheartedly, running with it and asking Astrid about it over and over, incessantly, for weeks. Heather had finally gotten a teacher involved, realizing it was either that or Astrid getting kicked out of school for beating Snotlout up. This had led to the current arrangement.

Which was clearly working out so well.

“Fuck off,” she snapped.

“Ooh, language,” Snotlout said. “So edgy.”

She stood up, and he took half a step back, fear flashing across his face. But she only bent down and picked up her backpack, setting it on her seat so she could start packing up her things.

“Oh, come on! I’m just curious.”

She stuck her notebook in her backpack, followed by her math textbook. “I told you to leave me alone,” she said, appalled at the way her voice was shaking.

“What are you gonna do?” he demanded. She knew what he was doing—he was trying to goad her so that when she hit him, she’d be the one _making things physical._ He’d very specifically not touched her, trying to force her to escalate matters.

And yes, Astrid was angry, she could feel the blood pounding in her ears, but she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. She zipped her backpack and swung it onto her shoulder. As she did so, though, Snotlout’s hand reached out and grabbed at the bag. Her arm jerked, and whether it was because she hadn’t zipped it up all the way, or it was just too full, her backpack came unzipped, spilling its contents onto the floor. All of it—notebooks, paperbacks for English class, her math book, folders, and several tampons, which had drifted to the bottom of the bag in the weeks since she’d last needed them.

The mess seemed to cover an impossible amount of the library floor. For a long moment, there was silence as Astrid just stood there, staring, her breath heaving in her chest.

“Shit,” Snotlout breathed, taking a step back. “Astrid, I—”

Something inside Astrid snapped, and she lost control of the anger she’d been trying so hard to contain. She turned her gaze upon Snotlout, and he flinched. “You stupid fucker!” she shouted—and then she kept shouting, the curses gaining vitriol and growing more vile as she went on, unpacking each and every grievance of the last month and a half at the top of her voice. She kept ranting in a steady stream of invective. The words came almost without her being aware of them. It felt like she’d been pulled back slightly out of her body, like she was watching herself yell at Snotlout rather than actually doing the yelling. His face went pale. She only came back to herself when movement in the corner of her eye made her glance over—straight into the wide-eyed, outraged stare of her gym teacher.

Astrid stopped mid-expletive, all the rage she’d felt just a moment ago draining away to nothing.

“What is going on here?” the gym teacher asked. She was a tall, muscular woman, with long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, and at the moment her hands were on her hips in a no-nonsense kind of pose.

“I told him to leave me alone,” Astrid said, her voice far too quiet. People were appearing in the doorway around the teacher, their faces full of curiosity. Heather was there, looking worried. She must have been yelling louder than she realized.

Beneath their stares, she suddenly felt very small. More than anything, she wished someone would step out from behind the shelves to back her up, to say, “Yes, she’s telling the truth, I heard her.” She even knew exactly who she wanted, too, short and skinny with big green eyes and freckles and messy red-brown hair.

But he didn’t appear, and neither did anyone else. The gym teacher’s eyes flicked from Astrid, to Snotlout, to the mess on the floor, and back to Astrid. “Principal’s office, both of you,” she snapped.

“Can I—”

“Now!”

Astrid’s backpack was still dangling from her elbow. She let it fall to the floor. 

“I’ll get your stuff,” Heather said as Astrid slipped past, following Snotlout and the gym teacher through the crowd of onlookers—including the librarian, who had returned from the bathroom—and Astrid could only nod.

Whatever hope she’d had of sneaking into her house undetected evaporated as soon as she’d crossed the threshold.

“Astrid,” her mother’s voice called, and her stomach sank. She went through to the kitchen, where her mom was sitting at the table, wearing a no-nonsense expression with half a cup of coffee sitting in front of her. “I got a call from the principal this afternoon,” her mom said after a moment. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I got in an argument.”

“You got _suspended.”_

“I’m sorry,” Astrid said. “But Snotlout Jorgenson wouldn’t leave me alone, and I had to stand up for myself.”

“You called him a—”

“I know what I called him.”

“Do you?” her mother demanded. “Because I have a hard time believing a sixteen-year-old knows what a few of those things mean. Especially _my_ sixteen-year-old.”

That was actually a fair point. 

“Where did you even hear that stuff?”

Astrid didn’t answer.

“He’s going to miss two football games, including Homecoming.”

Somehow, Astrid couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Astrid,” her mother sighed, suddenly looking very tired. “I just—I don’t understand. What was he doing to bother you?”

Astrid swallowed, looking down. “He just—he kept trying to talk to me, after we had that whole conference with the principal and our homeroom teachers and everything, and they told him to leave me alone.”

“What about?” There was a long pause. “Astrid.”

Finally Astrid met her mother’s eyes, hating the concern she found there. “The dragon, okay?” she snapped. “He kept asking me about the dragon.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Astrid could see the conflict in her eyes as she struggled with what the therapists had told her—not to encourage Astrid’s “delusion,” but also not to confront it directly either. Astrid had seen that look so much over the last three months, and she was seriously starting to hate it.

“Don’t,” she said. “If you hadn’t told his mom about it, he wouldn’t know, and it wouldn’t have gotten out at school.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” her mother said. It was the same apology she’d heard several times by now. “I was just worried about you, and I needed someone to talk to about it, and it came up at work.”

“And now I’m a pariah.”

“Astrid—” Astrid turned away. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

“Heather’s. We were planning to get pizza and watch movies since I’m not allowed to go to the dance next weekend.”

“You’re grounded.”

Astrid turned back to face her. “That’s what I figured. But couldn’t it start on Monday? Or even tomorrow.” She hesitated. “Please, Mom.”

A muscle in her mother’s jaw flexed and then relaxed. “Fine,” she said. “It’ll start tomorrow when you get back from Heather’s.”

“You okay?” Heather asked half an hour later, climbing into Astrid’s car. The cash for the pizza was clutched in one fist.

“No,” Astrid said, busying herself with the clutch and gearshift for a moment before pulling back out onto the road. 

“I’m sorry,” Heather said. “At least your mom let you come over, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Astrid said, flashing a smile. 

It wasn’t a long drive from Heather’s house to the pizza place, and they were halfway there before Heather spoke again. “Snotlout deserved it. He shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“But you still don’t believe me, do you?”

“Astrid—”

“I believed you, you know, last year when that guy said—”

“I know.” Heather’s voice was rough, and when Astrid glanced over, her shoulders were hunched like she was trying to curl in on herself. 

Instantly, Astrid felt remorse flood through her. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay.” Heather paused. “If it was anything else, I’d believe you. You know that, right? Absolutely anything. Without question. It’s just, this is—”

“A dragon,” Astrid said hollowly. “Yeah. I know.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you,” Astrid said, and she didn’t. She knew it was hard to believe, and at least Heather wasn’t cruel about her disbelief the way so many of the other kids were. 

It still hurt, though.

They got to the pizza place. Astrid waited in the car as Heather went in, leaving the engine running. 

The rain started to fall.

* * *

**The Present Day**

The next week was one of the happiest in Astrid’s life.

They kept chasing the dragon, only stopping for a few hours each night to sleep and eat. She wasn’t sure which of them was the one who had decided to keep that pace, but neither objected to it; the dragon fever that had prompted this trip seemed to have increased exponentially now that they had a goal, a fixed mark, rather than just roaming in the hopes of finding something. With anyone else, she would have been worried they were going the wrong way, that they’d fallen off the path somehow, but Hiccup was almost obsessively checking the compass and the paper map he’d marked up, making sure they were staying on course.

And, as Astrid realized very quickly, she had faith in him. She always had, in a sense, but now that they were actually depending on each other to achieve this goal, the most unusual of both of their lives, that faith grew stronger day by day.

And she knew he had faith in her too, that he believed in her. That meant more than she could say.

Glancing at the map where it lay on the table one day, she saw that he’d plotted a little dot in the middle of the blank blue of the sea, on the spot where they’d found an island where there shouldn’t be one. He’d labeled it “Honesty Island,” which, as she admitted to herself with a snort, was more than a little fitting. It wasn’t his normal handwriting, which she’d seen in the pages of his sketchbook that he’d shown her and which was a messy, cramped scrawl. The label was written in carefully small, neat letters. It looked almost like a record—which, she supposed, it was. They had technically discovered the island, after all. They had every right to name it.

At dawn on the seventh day, they had traveled almost four hundred fifty miles from Honesty Island, which was itself a hundred and fifty miles northwest of where they’d started. If one traveled in a straight line, that is, which they had not. Meandering as they had, they’d gone more than twice that far to find the little island. It wasn’t a huge distance, particularly on a body of water the size of the Pacific. Astrid had driven more than that in a day when she moved back to help take care of her mom. Every inch of it had been the result of the hard work she and Hiccup had done, though, every mile earned with sweat and sunburns and rain-drenched clothes, and so she found herself quite proud of it.

She woke that morning to find that Hiccup’s spot next to her in their little nest was empty.

He must have woken up before her; since they were now both sleeping on the deck most nights, and thus would be woken by any approaching ships, storms, or creatures, they’d suspended their previous practice of standing watches. She knew, though, that once he was awake he had trouble sitting—or lying—still without something to occupy his attention. And indeed, when she peeked one eye open, he was sitting in his spot at the table, reading a thick novel. It was the last in a series, apparently; it had come out at the beginning of the year, but he’d had to wait until summer to read it because of school, and he’d spent more than an hour the night before explaining fourteen books of plot to her. He was sipping from a cup of coffee. The smell was probably what had awakened her.

Astrid’s sleepy mind wandered, and she let it. The bare skin of her back tingled against the cool morning air, and she imagined a line of kisses being pressed into her back, from the base of her spine all the way up to her neck. She rolled over, tipping her chin forward to allow more access to—well, no one, really. The movement was easily disguised as snuggling deeper into her blanket, even if Hiccup had been paying attention from his seat at the table, which Astrid didn’t think he was. He hadn’t even noticed her wake up, though he might notice if she did as she was tempted to and slipped one hand between her legs to take care of the heavy, warm feeling that, besides his absence, was the first thing she’d noticed on waking up.

Which could be quite interesting.

The blankets behind her rustled, surprising her the rest of the way to awake, and she twisted to watch as Hiccup slipped in behind her. “Morning, milady,” he said. As his long, slim form settled against hers, the warm skin of his chest pressing into her back, she was unable to keep from giving a low moan of pleasure deep in her throat. Hiccup chuckled and kissed the side of her neck.

“How’d you know I was awake?”

“I could just tell.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she reached back to run her hand over his hip and thigh.

“You’re wearing pants.”

“Sorry,” he said unrepentantly, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I thought it might be a good idea if we ran into anyone.”

“Like a dragon?”

“Or another boat.”

“Smartass,” Astrid grumbled. With the proximity of his warm body and the way his hand on her waist was starting to creep upward, she couldn’t help but writhe a little, her thighs rubbing together. The movement pressed her ass against his lap, and she felt him respond, his erection pressing right back as he groaned softly in her ear. “Take them off.”

“In a minute,” he murmured. His mouth moved from her neck down to just between her shoulder blades, leaving a trail of kisses, and Astrid gasped at the feeling of his hand on her breast. He took his time, letting his hands and mouth roam across her torso to nip at her shoulder and roll a hardened nipple between his fingers, and running his hand across her hips and ass. Pleasure filled her, warm and heady and overwhelming, almost becoming torment as he teased her.

“Hiccup,” she whined in protest, and finally he let her roll onto her back, sucking at her nipple for a moment before she tangled one hand in his hair to haul him up to kiss her. The other hand went down the front of his pants to finally wrap her fingers around him. He was hot and thick in her hand, and he gasped against her mouth at the touch. He pulled away for just a second to scrabble for a condom from their little stash, and then he was kissing her again. He felt utterly perfect against her, and as he slipped his pants off, leaving them both clad in nothing but sky, her heart pounded with something wild and strong and entirely his.

* * *

Something felt different.

It was hard to say what, exactly, hard to put a finger on what had changed, and how. But something definitely had. As they traveled on that afternoon, something like static hung in the air. The tension in Hiccup’s shoulders and lips said he felt it too. It felt almost like a storm approaching, but the skies as far as they could see were a perfect, clear blue.

Then, an hour or so before sunset, _something_ appeared on the horizon ahead of them. “Astrid,” Hiccup said, and she knew he’d seen it too.

She nodded, and they kept going.

As they got closer, the thing they had spotted became clearer. Whatever it was, it was throwing up a great white mist of spray—just the way a waterfall would do. The tiny droplets of water caught the light of the bright afternoon, casting countless tiny rainbows above the surface of the water.

Her heart was in her throat as they drew nearer. It sounded like a waterfall too, quickly becoming an almost deafening roar that filled the air. She slowed the boat, getting as close as she could before she started to feel the current of the waterfall tugging at the boat’s hull. Then she dropped the anchor, and the _Fury_ lurched to a stop.

For a long moment, Astrid and Hiccup just stood there, staring at each other. Then—

“I think we found it,” Astrid said, and Hiccup nodded.

“The Hidden World.”

Even with all the care and effort they’d put into finding this place, it was incredibly lucky that they had done so. If Hiccup had been off by even a degree when he was tracking the Nadder’s direction, they would have gone hundreds of miles in the wrong direction. And the waterfall—or hole, or whatever it was—in front of them was tiny compared to the vast blue of the ocean. It would have been very easy to miss.

But they hadn’t gone the wrong way. And they hadn’t missed it.

Something about this hole in the ocean was deeply familiar to Astrid. It took her a second to realize why. Then she said, “It looks just like Thor’s Well,” she said, half-shouting to be heard.

Hiccup turned to look at her, brow furrowed. “Thor’s _what?”_

“Thor’s Well,” she said. “South of town.”

He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered—not that she could hear it, but she’d seen him swear enough to know what it looked like. Then he shook himself, looking back toward the waterfall. “We’ve got to get in there,” he said, loud enough for her to hear.

“How?”

He ran his hands through his hair and began to pace, the unbuttoned shirt he was wearing flapping as he went. “I—I don’t know,” he said. “Some kind of paraglider. Or a plane, maybe?”

“Do you have a plane?”

“No, but we could go home and come back with one.”

“You want to buy a _plane?”_

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Why not? I’ve already got a boat, we might as well go for one more space in rich asshole bingo.”

“Do you even have a pilot’s license?”

He whirled on her, staring helplessly. She thought for a moment he was about to actually start pulling hair out. “I have to try, Astrid.”

She didn’t know what to say to the desperation in his face, but quickly realized she didn’t have to say anything.

Something came rocketing out of the hole in the sea, something big and green that flew up past the waterfall, through the rainbows and the mist that was starting to light up like fire in the sunset. It spread its wings and, spotting them, began to circle. Seeing her wide-eyed, open-mouthed stare, Hiccup turned around. She pushed past him and rushed up onto the foredeck, scrambling past the jib to the very front of the bow. The Nadder was still above them. As she stood there, goggling up at it, it circled several more times.

Then it dove.

The first time they had met the Nadder, the force of its landing had been enough to wake them. Taking off had thrown them to the deck. And now, as it landed on the rail at the stern of the boat, where Hiccup was still standing, the _Fury_ rocked violently. Astrid staggered, her arms windmilling wildly for a moment that seemed to last for an eternity. She was leaning perilously over the side of the bow, struggling for balance and reaching desperately for a line that didn’t seem to be there. She could see Hiccup screaming—probably her name, though she couldn’t hear him—his eyes wide with panic, and the Nadder, just beyond him, looked surprisingly concerned too.

Then she hit the water, and her breath was knocked from her lungs. 

The current that had only tugged at the _Fury_ caught Astrid and dragged her along. Lighter and without the benefit of an anchor rope, she had no way to resist. She was a strong swimmer, but all she could do was try to force her head above the water to get a mouthful of air. It wasn’t enough, and as she frantically began trying to swim back toward the boat, her head went under. Buffeted by the current, she didn’t make much headway. It was hard to hold her breath—not that she’d had much breath to start with—and the pressure building in her chest told her she wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer.

Astrid began to panic.

She hit a rock and sucked in a lungful of water as she gasped involuntarily at the force. 

There was the overwhelming, awful burning of saltwater in her nose and throat. 

She had the briefest sense of falling—or possibly flying—and then everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it. Please do leave a comment if you'd like.
> 
> Thanks as well for your patience; I'm hoping to get the next update up quicker than I did this one.


	10. Chapter 10

“Astrid?! Astrid!”

Rough hands grabbed her shoulders. She barely felt the pressure at one side of her throat. She was lying on something hard and sharp, but that didn’t matter because she _still couldn’t breathe—_

Then the hands grabbed her again, yanking her onto her side, and she choked. “That’s it,” said a voice next to her, the same voice that had screamed her name just a second ago, and a wide palm drove itself into her back between her shoulder blades. She finally managed to cough. Water scorched its way out of her. It burned more going out than coming in, if that was possible, and she hacked, gasping almost as much with pain as with the need to breathe. It felt like the time when, one night with Heather, she’d snorted peach whiskey out of her nose. Only worse. 

“Fuck,” she croaked.

“Atta girl,” the voice said.

It was only after gulping in several harsh, ragged breaths that she was able to get her eyes open. They were streaming, along with her nose and mouth, and she had to rub her hands across them before she could turn to look at Hiccup, still breathing hard.

He was kneeling above her, just as wet as she was. Water dripped from his hair and the tip of his nose as he stared at her, panting. Astrid started to collapse toward him, and he caught her to him in a tight hug. “Fuck,” he breathed, as though in agreement with her.

They just sat there for a moment longer, holding each other. Astrid could feel every breath rasping through her like sandpaper. Then she asked, “Did you jump in after me?”

He nodded against her shoulder. 

Her stomach was starting to roil in a very familiar manner. Astrid tried to pull away but was still too weak from her near-drowning to get very far. “Fucking du—” she said, and then lurched, vomiting more seawater all over both of them. He didn’t seem to mind, though, either the cursing or the puking—he just laughed wetly, hugging her again.

“I know,” he said. “Sorry, I panicked a little.”

“It’s okay. I did too.” Talking _hurt._ “How—” She stopped, but Hiccup seemed to get her meaning. 

“The Nadder grabbed me out of the water,” he said. “Then she went after you. You’d gone over the edge by the time we caught up.” She sagged against him, and he cradled her against his chest. “Anything broken?”

She shook her head.

“Fingers, toes?” 

She wiggled each in turn.

She heard a sound from nearby, one that unquestioningly came from the Nadder, though she’d never heard it make such a quiet noise. She felt Hiccup shift as he looked up at it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, which she figured she probably wasn’t supposed to hear. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and the Nadder squawked gently above them.

“Here, lie down a second,” Hiccup said, lowering her to the ground. 

As he stood, grunting with effort, she let her head roll toward the direction that the dim light was coming from. A few hundred yards off, she could see the hole they’d come down through, water still streaming down from the sea above. They were on top of what she assumed was a stalagmite, high above the floor of the cave. If there was even a floor; she knew the area they were in was still pretty actively volcanic, and so there was every chance it was lava beneath them. Part of her wanted to roll to the edge and look down, but she’d already almost died once today. Risking doing so again out of curiosity just seemed foolish.

“We have to go back up there,” he was saying to the Nadder as Astrid turned back to the two of them. “Back to our boat.”

The Nadder ruffled its wings in a manner that was not altogether conciliatory. It squawked, jerking its head in the opposite direction from the hole, where the light was quickly fading. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Hiccup snapped. “She needs to drink some water, and we could both use some dry clothes.”

And, yes, she realized, looking at the way he was standing, hands on his cocked hips—he was having an honest-to-gods argument with a dragon. 

Of course he was.

And he was losing—the Nadder showed no signs of yielding, only staring back at him with those big yellow eyes. 

With a sigh, he knelt down beside her again. “It looks like she wants to take us further in.”

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Her voice was just a tad bit hoarse.

“Will you be okay?”

“Not like we have much of a choice, is it?” 

He chuckled ruefully. “No, not really. We are sort of at her mercy.”

“Then let’s go,” Astrid said. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Just… help me up.” She hated needing to ask for the support, but all the same, as he clasped her forearm and helped her rise, she was glad he was there to give it. “So how do you want to do this?” she asked, looking at the Nadder. 

She was feeling a little unsteady on her feet, and so it was quite welcome when Hiccup placed a hand on her back in a silent gesture of support. “Well, on the way in, she had us in her claws,” he said. “That kind of complicated landing, though.”

Astrid gave him a slightly incredulous look. “You think we should ride her?”

“If she’ll let us.” He began edging toward the dragon, holding up his hands to show they were empty. The Nadder chirped curiously at him, and he froze for a split second before taking another step. Swallowing beneath its unblinking gaze, he let one hand fall slowly to rest against its neck. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed again. “So far so good.”

“Careful, babe,” Astrid said. Hiccup looked over at her, and even in the circumstances, with his hair and clothes dripping seawater and the scaled hide of a fucking _dragon_ beneath his hand, a grin split his face. 

“Babe?” he mouthed.

“Focus,” she snapped. Still grinning, he turned back to the Nadder. It was watching him evenly through one big yellow eye, evidently wanting to see what this strange, small, wingless creature was going to do next. 

“I wonder if she’ll let us—” Hiccup began, stepping closer to the Nadder and bracing his other hand on its neck. Then he yelped, and there was a blur of motion as the dragon, seemingly growing impatient, sank its teeth into the back of his shirt and hoisted him bodily onto its back. He wriggled for a moment on his stomach before squirming into a seated position, one leg behind each wing and a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

“Did she get you?” Astrid asked, trying not to laugh and only mostly succeeding. 

He looked down at her from his perch, lips pressed together. “No, she just startled me.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

He let out a long sigh, and then, after a moment, held out his hand to her. “Come here, you. Up you get.”

He lifted her with surprising ease so that she was sitting in front of him. She squirmed for a moment to get situated, then nodded. Reaching around her, Hiccup patted the Nadder’s neck. “Can you move your wings okay?” he asked.

As though in response, the Nadder flexed its wings experimentally and squawked back at him.

“Where do we hang on?” Astrid asked.

Hiccup let out a long breath through his nose as he thought. “With your legs, like on a horse?” he suggested. “Hopefully she’ll be gentle enough that we won’t fall, but grab around her neck if you really need to. Gently, that is. And if we do fall, well, at least we know she’s good at catching people.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I know. Some rope or something would be really nice right around—”

He never finished the sentence. The Nadder took off with a great flap of its wings, and Astrid discovered that her arms did not quite meet around its neck as she clung to it. Hiccup’s arms had locked around her waist, only relaxing when she pushed herself upright again. They were both breathing hard; she could feel his chest moving against her back, and she thought she could feel their hearts pounding against each other as well. 

“You okay?" Hiccup asked, his voice rough in her ear.

“Yeah, you?” Astrid’s throat felt more raw than ever. She supposed she must have screamed when they first took off, though she couldn’t remember having done so. She felt him nod and turned to look over her shoulder toward the opening just in time to watch as the very last of the red light of the sunset vanished. 

They were flying through pure, unbroken darkness now, surrounded by velvety black without any source of light. Astrid could see nothing, and could only hear the steady thumping sound of the Nadder’s wings. She could feel them, too, moving just in front of her legs, and Hiccup’s hands, warm on her waist, grounded her as they flew through the cool underground air. 

Hiccup had been right; after the initial jolting of the takeoff, the flight was very gentle indeed. Presumably the Nadder was being extra careful with its fragile passengers. With the darkness pressing softly in around her and the rhythmic motion of the dragon beneath her, it wasn’t long before Astrid felt herself begin succumbing to exhaustion. Understandably quite fatigued, her body was trying to take the opportunity for a rest. She fought it, but as the flight went on, she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

After the third—or perhaps fourth—time she jolted herself awake, Hiccup’s arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her more securely against him. “Go ahead and sleep,” he said. “I got you.”

“You sure?” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m pretty wired.”

“All right.” She let herself slump backwards against him, relaxing in his hard grasp as the Nadder’s wings beat steadily on. 

It felt like only seconds later that he was shaking her gently. “Sorry to wake you,” he said quietly as she stirred. “But you really need to see this.”

Astrid opened her eyes and gasped aloud, sitting up and leaning forward to brace her hands on the Nadder’s back. 

They were surrounded by light.

It was soft, just enough to see by, and it was coming from the stone columns the Nadder was flying between. Try as she might, Astrid couldn’t quite tell what was casting the light. Her money was on some kind of bioluminescent fungus, but it was impossible to tell without getting a lot closer and slowing down considerably. All the same, though, her fingers were itching to take samples.

The soft blue light glowed against the deep green scales along the Nadder’s neck and wings. It made the skin of Astrid’s hands and arms look almost pearlescent, and she could see it doing the same to Hiccup’s hands, which were still on her waist. 

“Holy shit,” she whispered, looking out through the glowing columns. They stretched out as far as she could see in all directions, including—Hiccup’s hands tightened around her waist as she leaned over to look—below them.

“Right?” he said as she straightened up, letting her back brush against his chest. She twisted to look at him, feeling herself smile at the look on his face, utterly filled with wonder at this vast, alien beauty. “What I wouldn’t give to get some of that stuff in a test tube.”

Before long, the Nadder began to slow, flapping its wings rather than soaring as it had been doing. Peering around its head—and deciding vaguely that kneeling would be more effective—she saw that they were coming up on a stone pillar much like the one they’d landed on before. It was maybe fifty feet across, and it looked level enough. The Nadder slowed abruptly as they reached it, the motion reminding Astrid for all the world of how it felt to stall a plane in the flight simulators she’d played as a kid. Instinctively, Hiccup’s arms tightened around her waist as they both clenched their legs around the Nadder’s sides. All this really accomplished was them falling off the Nadder together. They landed heavily with Astrid on top of Hiccup, knocking the wind out of him. 

He gave a pained grunt, and she rolled off him. “You okay?” she asked on hands and knees beside him. He nodded, sucking in lungfuls of air. “Anything broken?”

Slowly, carefully, Hiccup sat up. “No, I’m good.” He cracked a smile, still gulping a little as he breathed. “I’d rather have you land on top of me than the other way around.”

Astrid could only grin at him.

A noise from the Nadder made Astrid look around. It was staring down at them from a few feet away, eyes wide with surprise and, seemingly, concern. Apparently it hadn’t meant to dump them. 

“He’s okay,” she said, and whether it understood her words or just her tone, the Nadder calmed slightly, ruffling its wings and shifting its great taloned feet. 

A thought occurred to Astrid, and she stood, taking a step toward the dragon.

“Astrid?” 

“I just want to try something.” She took another slow, deliberate step, making sure the Nadder could see her empty hands. One more step put her within easy biting range, and at the next, the dragon started trying to back away, rocking from foot to foot and making a low, uneasy noise in the back of its throat. 

“Astrid,” Hiccup said with more urgency.

Ignoring him, she stepped back to a respectful distance. “Sorry,” she said to the Nadder. 

It blinked at her, huffing out a breath. 

“Looks like she has a blind spot,” she remarked, glancing over her shoulder at Hiccup. 

When she turned back, the Nadder was still studying her. It held her gaze across the intervening space for the span of several deep breaths. It was the first chance they’d had for any sort of extended connection, when neither of them was terrified, flying off, falling off a boat, or watching as the other nearly drowned. And as they looked at each other, Astrid’s entire focus narrowed to the dragon, realization dawning on her.

There was _intelligence_ in those big yellow eyes. She hadn’t seen it before, maybe because she wasn’t expecting it, but now she couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was there, glittering deep in the Nadder’s eyes and almost human. She would have gasped if the realization wasn’t so all-consuming. It felt like her world had shifted, almost more than it had when she’d first seen the Thunderdrum, because not only did dragons exist, they were _intelligent._

This changed everything.

Almost before she realized what she was doing, her hand was reaching out toward the Nadder’s face. She could feel warm breath on the skin of her fingers, could hear the pounding of blood in her ears. Another long moment passed in which they just looked at each other. The Nadder’s eyes slid shut, and she began to lean forward—

Then a roar echoed through the cavern, and the spell was broken. Both Astrid and the Nadder pulled away, the Nadder whirling toward the direction the roar had come from. Astrid felt firm, long-fingered hands close over her shoulders, pulling her down into a crouch. Hiccup was next to her, trying to push her between himself and the Nadder.

A dragon came into view.

No, not a dragon— _dragons._

There were dozens of them, maybe hundreds—it was hard to tell, with the columns and how quickly they were all moving—all appearing almost out of nowhere. A great shift rippled across the crowd as they spotted the Nadder standing over Hiccup and Astrid, and they wheeled, changing course so that they were circling the stone pillar. Astrid stared, agape. There were all shapes, from little brown dragons that blurred past, almost disappearing in the crowd; to ones that she recognized as Thunderdrums, not just blue like the one she and Hiccup had seen as kids but yellow and green and vivid, bloody red; one that seemed to be nothing but wings and neck, with a long, horned head and bright green scales; a bright blue dragon—and holy shit, it had _two heads,_ both of which were staring at her; numerous Nadders; and several dragons with wings that seemed too small to hold up their rounded bodies, clubbed tails, and knobbly skin. 

Astrid had stood up without realizing, too full of wonder to be scared. Hiccup was standing next to her, wonder on his face as well. There was something else there too, though, something strange that she couldn’t quite face. 

“There aren’t any Monstrous Nightmares,” he said.

 _Oh._ Her stomach twisted. “Do you think they’re—”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question, but he seemed to get it. He shrugged, his mouth and shoulders tight. “Could be. It’s hard to say. This can’t be all of them.”

Neither of them moved; nor did the Nadder. As the other dragons kept wheeling around them, squawking amongst themselves and occasionally at the Nadder, the atmosphere started to grow tense. Plenty of the dragons only looked curious about these little creatures that had found their way into their domain—but plenty looked hostile too. None of them made any aggressive moves, but anyone could at any time.

And there would be nothing Astrid could do about it. 

Finally one of the dragons peeled itself away from the rest and came to hover in front of them. The Nadder scrambled to put herself between it and the two humans. The gusts of wind from the flapping of its wings pushed Hiccup’s hair back from his face.

“I think it’s a Typhoomerang,” he whispered. 

Whatever it was, it was _big._ As it opened its mouth and roared, Astrid realized it was the same dragon who had startled her and the Nadder in the first place. Probably the leader, she figured. At least of this little troupe.

The Nadder roared back, defiant. It was louder and fiercer than anything they’d heard from it so far, make its previous squawks sound practically friendly, and it made both Hiccup and Astrid flinch. That prompted another roar from the Typhoomerang, and the two dragons launched into an honest-to-gods _argument._

Hiccup pulled her down again so that they were huddled together at the Nadder’s feet, listening to the two dragons’ back-and-forth. “You know, I never thought I’d see ‘put that thing back where it came from or so help me’ so clearly communicated by something that doesn’t speak,” he murmured.

Astrid shot him an incredulous look—how could he be making jokes at a time like this?—and then glanced again at the dragons all around them. If the looks on their faces were any indication, ‘put it back’ was one of the milder propositions on the table.

With a final, penetrating shriek from the Nadder—“Fucking Thor,” muttered Hiccup—the argument seemed to end. The Typhoomerang roared at its flock, and they stopped circling. For a moment, just a second, Astrid felt her heart begin to race. But then they were flying away, disappearing into the distance of that soft, fuzzy blue light. All but one—the bright blue two-headed dragon Astrid had noted before peeled off from the rest of the crowd and flew off back the way they had come.

Astrid released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Beside her, Hiccup did the same. They looked at each other, shared recognition of the amazing thing they’d just seen passing between them, and then up at the Nadder. 

She looked—well, fretful was the only word Astrid could think of. The expression was strangely human. She shifted back and forth between her feet again, gave a sigh (which sounded entirely _too_ human) and then settled on the ground next to Hiccup and Astrid.

“I guess there’s not much we can do but wait,” Hiccup said, interpreting the gesture the same way Astrid had. “I’m sure they’ll be coming back, but until then…” She nodded, and he sat down, wincing as he straightened his knee out. She sat down too.

“How’s your knee?”

He huffed a laugh. “Sore. How’s your… everything?”

“Sore,” Astrid admitted, grinning ruefully. A long moment passed in which they just looked at each other, catching their breath. Then she asked, “What time do you think it is?”

He considered for a moment. “Probably around midnight.”

“Are you hungry?”

He nodded. “Now that the adrenaline’s starting to settle down a little bit. You?”

She shook her head. “No, my stomach still hurts too much.”

“That makes sense.” Hiccup leaned back against the Nadder’s side. She twisted her head to look at him, giving an inquisitive sort of chirp, and then apparently decided she didn’t mind. Astrid could see his hands shaking, and she knew hers were too, not just with the exhaustion and weakness that came from the receding adrenaline, but with excitement as well. 

“Can you believe this?” she asked.

He grinned tiredly. “It’s pretty amazing, huh?”

“I just… I never imagined this was possible. But they’ve got, like, a whole little society down here.”

Hiccup nodded, his smile fading a little. He blinked slowly. “You should get some sleep.”

Astrid shook her head, though she was bone-tired. “I took a nap earlier.”

“Yeah, but you also almost drowned. You’re entitled to be a little exhausted. And you look tired.”

She snorted, choosing not to take offense at that, or to point out that he looked tired too as he stifled a yawn. “I’ll take first watch.”

“I think we’ll be safe as long as she’s here,” he said, nodding toward the Nadder. He held one arm out toward her. “C’mere.”

Too tired to resist—and not particularly wanting to—Astrid gave a little sigh and crawled into the circle of his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. The Nadder’s side was warm against her back, rising and falling in a way that almost reminded her of the rocking motions of the sea. “As long as you’re sleeping too,” she mumbled.

“I will,” he murmured, kissing her hair.

She was asleep in less than a minute, with the soft, mostly dry flannel of his shirt under her cheek and his smell in her nose and the miracle of the Nadder burning warm behind her.

She dreamt of flying.

* * *

When she woke, her head was in Hiccup’s lap. She could feel his fingers resting against her head, as though he’d fallen asleep playing with her hair. He was still asleep, she saw as she turned her face up toward his, with his head leaned back against the Nadder’s side and his mouth hanging open slightly. The Nadder was sleeping too, her head tucked under her wing, but as Astrid shifted, she woke up. Pulling her head out from under her wing, she blinked at Astrid. 

“Sorry,” Astrid whispered, raising one hand to pat the side of the Nadder’s face.

The Nadder grumbled complacently and tucked her head under the other wing.

It was a good idea, Astrid thought, and shut her eyes again.

When she woke again, to the sound of tearing fabric, both Hiccup and the Nadder were gone. She sat bolt upright, twisting in alarm—because of course she’d assumed the worst—to see Hiccup sitting with his back to her. He was on the edge of the pillar, his legs dangling. He turned to look at her, smiling. The soft blue light hadn’t changed, she noticed. Her mouth was dry, and the beginnings of a headache were hovering around her temples.

“Morning, milady.” 

She stood up and walked over to him, stepping carefully on the rocky ground. “Where’s the Nadder?”

“I’m not sure. She flew off a little while ago.” He paused. “It’s hard to tell directions down here.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. What are you doing?”

He held up the remains of the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. The Nadder’s teeth had torn holes in it, and he was using these as starting points to tear the shirt into strips of plaid-patterned fabric. “Assuming we’re leaving the same way we came, I thought reins might be a good idea. And I’d rather use this than my pants.”

“Good thought,” Astrid said, leaning down to kiss him. As she straightened up, she realized something with a jolt. “Is there somewhere we can…”

He looked up at her for a moment; then his eyes widened slightly in realization. “Oh. I just peed off the side,” he said. “Um—”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Once she had—on the opposite side of the pillar—she turned back to rejoin him. Now that she was a little more awake, she spotted a dozen or so small holes in the back of his green cotton t-shirt, surrounded by telltale dark stains.

“I thought you said she didn’t get you,” she said, running her hand over his back. 

“She just nicked me, really,” Hiccup said. 

“Let me see.”

With a sigh, he lifted his shirt. The wounds were scattered across his back in two curved lines that definitely reminded her of jaws. They’d scabbed over, though, without much swelling or concerning redness. On the left side, the marks were scattered between old scars that were so faded she only really noticed them as her fingertips ghosted over them. 

“It didn’t really hurt that much,” he said. “My shirts took the weight, not my skin.”

“Yeah, it looks like it’s healing okay.” She settled onto the ground next to him, letting him pull his shirt back down. “Can I help?”

“Uh, sure.” He gave her a handful of fabric strips. “If you’d like, you can start tying these together. We’ll need three long pieces.”

“Any preference on the kind of knot?”

He flashed a grin that made her stomach flutter. “I thought I’d defer to your expertise on that, Captain.”

“I like it when you call me that,” she said, setting the fabric strips down and choosing two that were about the same width. 

“Captain?”

“Mmm.”

“Well then, Captain.” He squeezed her knee.

They worked quietly for a few minutes. After a moment of consideration, Astrid decided to just use a simple reef knot. It was strong and easy to do, and its main drawback—that it could easily jam and become hard to untie—wasn’t something she was that concerned about.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Hiccup said, an odd tension in his voice.

“When we… last time, I mean, did you tell anyone?”

He laughed. “You never ask what I think you’re going to.”

Astrid snorted.

“To answer your question, though, no, I didn’t. The only person I might have told was my mom, and well… you know.” She nodded. “I’d gotten pretty used to not talking to my dad about things, and my grandma didn’t need much of an explanation for me disappearing overnight on a boat with a pretty girl.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she nudged him back.

“My mom was the only one I told too.”

“Who’d she tell?”

“One of the other paralegals at her firm. Snotlout’s mom.”

“Fuckin’ Snotlout.”

Astrid laughed. “I know, right?”

The two of them made short work of braiding Hiccup’s shirt into a sort of rope. It was longer than he was tall, and though it wouldn’t be much in the way of reins, it should go all the way around the Nadder’s neck. And at least it would be something to hold onto.

Hiccup set it off to one side and looked at her. He was worried, she could see, but trying to hide it.

“What?” she asked, smiling a little nervously.

“I’m sorry, Astrid.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have gotten you into this.”

Anger flashed into her head, sharp and sudden as a knife. “What are you talking about?”

“I just—Astrid, I’ve been dreaming about seeing you again since I was sixteen years old. I mean, when I would think about the future, part of me would wonder, would imagine—what I’m trying to say is that it’s you. What I want for the future is—is you, and it’s always been you. And the thought that I could have put that at risk, I can’t—”

“You’re worried about that now?!” He just looked down into the soft blue void, not saying anything. “Hiccup, you didn’t put me at risk. I did. I came of my own accord. I am only here because I _chose_ to be. And because I fell off a boat.” The last few words had their intended effect, making him chuckle ruefully. “Do you really think I would come on a trip like this, in search of dragons, and not have thought about the risk of running into fucking _dragons?”_

“Yes,” he said bluntly.

Well, maybe he was right about that. She’d still been struggling to believe dragons existed at the time, after all. Still, though, she reached out and took his hand. “You didn’t get me into anything I didn’t want. I’m glad to be here.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

“Don’t you dare feel guilty about that,” she said, reading the look on his face, and he snorted.

“It just feels weird, to be happy that you were still in town when I came back, given the reason why.”

“That’s not your fault.”

He sighed. “I guess not.” He gave her a sidelong look. “You were angry at me, though.” 

“I was angry at everything,” she said. “Not just you.”

Hiccup smiled, a little sadly. “I can relate.”

Astrid thought of how he’d looked the first time she’d seen him, eyebrows permanently drawn together, eyes burning with quiet rage as he doggedly walked for miles at a time as though denying he was in pain, and nodded. 

“So why’d your grandma leave you the house anyway?”

His face shifted into something else, almost embarrassed, and he looked away. “I think she knew I cared about it. And about her, of course. I… last year, after everything happened—” he glanced at her, and she nodded to show her understanding “—I spent my winter break with her so her hospice nurse could have more time with her family over the holidays. At that point, it was mostly just keeping her comfortable and helping when she forgot stuff, which I could handle. It helped that I look a lot like my mom,” he said with a rueful smile. “The nurse would come by to check on her and administer medications, but for the most part it was just the two of us. Watched a lot of Jeopardy.”

Astrid chuckled. “But she didn’t pass away until the end of January, right? I mean, you weren’t—none of the family was there.”

Hiccup shook his head. “No. She—well, in her more lucid moments she said she didn’t want me to be there. Her nurse called me in the middle of a freshman bio lab.”

“Would you have wanted to be there?”

He shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Not that I, like, wanted to watch her die or anything, but it would have been nice to hold her hand.”

“Yeah, it helps,” she said. He turned to her, dawning horror on his face. Before he could say anything, she asked, “Did she tell you she was going to give you the house?”

He looked at her carefully for a moment, then shook his head. “No, she didn’t tell anyone. Except her lawyer.” He chuckled. “My uncle was pretty shocked, but it turned out she’d changed her will after that summer I’d spent with her, before any of her symptoms showed up. She left me a letter, saying she always wanted me to have a place to come home to.”

“And that’s why you decided to stay?”

Hiccup nodded slowly. “When I got there, to figure out what needed fixing and decide what to do, it just felt like coming home.” He glanced at her. “And I told you I could imaging making a life there.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Astrid said thoughtfully.

He met her gaze, his eyes bright with emotion and something that looked an awful lot like hope. “You do?”

She squeezed his hand. “I do now.”

He reached for her, but he’d only just started kissing her when a familiar squawk echoed through the cavern. Astrid pulled away as the Nadder landed on top of the stone pillar behind them. She ruffled her wings and bobbed her head at them in a sort of nod. 

“Where’ve you been?” Hiccup asked, his voice not entirely unfriendly. Astrid got to her feet, reaching down to help him stand as well. 

Wherever she’d been, it seemed the Nadder had come back not a moment too soon; a roar coming between the pillars heralded the return of the Typhoomerang. It appeared a moment later, along with the rest of its flock, and with a great rush of flapping wings and a chorus of roars and squawks and shrieks, they resumed their circling. Well, most of them—two of the little dragons Astrid had noticed before, one brown and the other a mottled burnt-orange color, came flapping over to the pillar. They were weighed down by a heavy object they were carrying between them, which, as they got closer, proved to be a plastic container full of water. They set it down just outside of Hiccup and Astrid’s reach and then, with a slightly guilty look at the Typhoomerang, flew off again, disappearing into the crowd.

Hiccup bent down and picked up the container. He stuck in a finger and then sucked it clean. “It’s fresh,” he said, sounding vaguely surprised. “Where’d they get fresh water?”

Astrid didn’t much care where they’d gotten it. The second she’d seen it, she’d been reminded of the thirst she’d been suppressing since she woke up. It made sense that she was dehydrated, having swallowed and then thrown up as much seawater as she had, and she was lucky to not be facing more serious consequences than the thirst and the headache that was building. She pulled the container toward herself and started drinking greedily, taking several long draughts before she stopped herself and pushed the bucket back toward Hiccup.

He shook his head. “You need it more.”

After she’d taken a few more swallows, though, he relented and drank as well. They took it in turns to drink after that, passing the bucket back and forth as they gulped the water down. It was considerably lighter by the time Astrid suggested, panting slightly, that they should try to save the rest.

Hiccup nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He set the container down.

The dragons were still wheeling around and above them, squawking and roaring at each other—and at the Nadder. After watching Hiccup and Astrid drink for a moment, she turned to the flock and began squawking back at them, presumably continuing the debate from the night before. Tensions ramped up quickly. The Typhoomerang kept circling, and the Nadder made certain to keep herself between it and the two humans so that Hiccup and Astrid were forced to shuffle along with her in a bizarre sort of dance. Astrid was reminded of the thought she’d had the night before—that any of the dragons could attack at any time, that any of them could make an aggressive move and turn this whole situation on its head—and glancing around, fending off Hiccup’s attempts to shield her, she saw plenty of faces that looked like they might be up for doing so. 

The shrieks and squawks kept building in volume until they filled the air, echoing against the columns until it was a cacophony. Just when Astrid thought it couldn’t get louder, something in the air seemed to snap. The Typhoomerang stopped, somehow planting itself in midair and roaring in the Nadder’s face. 

Hiccup’s arm closed around her waist, hard as steel, and she let him pull her down so they were crouched, presenting as small a target as possible. She could hear the furious roars of the Nadder and the Typhoomerang, could feel Hiccup’s arm around her shoulders, and—just barely—hear him cursing in her ear. The other dragons hadn’t gotten any quieter either, although there were several that looked worried rather than angry. Hiccup’s gaze was darting around, too—looking for escape routes, she thought, though of course there weren’t any. Her head was pounding. It all just kept building, kept getting more intense, and deep inside Astrid, quite separate from the part of her that was increasingly overwhelmed by the noise and wings and the need to _do something,_ she knew, with some instinct she didn’t understand, that it was building to a breaking point, and that it was going to break soon.

Then, halfway through that final breath before the crash she could feel coming, a new cry rang out.

It was piercing, sharp as a knife, and it cut through the noise of the other dragons. Abruptly, everything went still. A hush fell over the cavern. Almost like they’d hit a wall, the dragons stopped circling and found perches on the surrounding columns. Hiccup’s head had snapped up instantly at this new dragon’s call. Now he scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and an expression almost of reverence on his face.

“No way,” he whispered, staring at the silhouette that was coming closer. 

Its shape was almost completely unique compared to the rest of the dragons, a good deal smaller than they Typhoomerang and even the Nadder. It landed on the top of the pillar, so close that Astrid could see the spots of dark gray dappled across the lighter gray of the scales of its face. Its eyes were the color of tanzanites, and it moved with catlike grace as it took several steps toward them, the ear-like nubs at the back of its head flicking with curiosity.

Beside her, Hiccup seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

“Is that a Night Fury?” she whispered.

“No,” he whispered back. “Maybe some kind of hybrid, though—it’s got the same shape.”

He stopped talking as the Fury fixed them with a stare that was hard as tanzanites too. It made an inquisitive sound toward the Typhyoomerang, who replied loudly, as it seemed to do everything. The Nadder retorted angrily, stepping between the Fury and the two humans. The Fury slowly turned its head to look at her. It wasn’t angry, Astrid didn’t think, but it didn’t look terribly happy either. The Nadder stiffened beneath the Fury’s gaze, holding still for a long second. It wasn’t until the Fury emitted a low, reassuring croon that she bowed her head and stepped to the side.

Astrid felt like her heart had stopped beating in her chest. Everything around her was still, from the dragons looking down at them to the steady blue glow of the light, to the steady blue gaze of the Fury. Even Hiccup was standing still, as close beside her as he could get without actually touching her. She felt long fingers lace twine themselves between hers—

And then Hiccup’s breath caught in his chest as the Fury turned its gaze upon him. It studied him for what felt like a long time—what would have been several long breaths if Astrid was breathing—its gaze even, though obviously intensely curious. Hiccup had gone very tense, not relaxing even when the Fury looked away from him.

Because then it was Astrid’s turn.

She was transfixed by the Fury’s gaze. It bored into her, and again she saw that same intelligence she’d seen burning bright in the Nadder’s eyes, perhaps even more so. There was that strange feeling in her chest again too, like the world was shifting around her. She felt like the Fury was not just looking at her, but actually seeing her. _Knowing_ her.

In short, she felt like the Fury was staring directly into her very soul. 

She wondered, vaguely, with whatever part of her was not completely occupied by its gaze, what it thought of her.

Then it blinked, and she could breathe again.

The Fury turned its head and made another low crooning sound at the Nadder. She exhaled gustily and chirped in reply. She was relieved, Astrid thought, if she had to assign a human emotion to her. 

The Typhoomerang did not seem so pleased. It turned and, with a roar to the rest of its flock, flew off out of sight. The other dragons followed, some slower than others. The last to leave, Astrid noticed, were the two that had brought her and Hiccup water.

Several had stayed, though, including the blue one with two heads. They kept watching the scene on the pillar as the Nadder and the Fury exchanged a few more noises, evidently coming to an agreement. 

Then the Nadder turned to Hiccup and Astrid. She gestured with her head toward what Astrid thought must be the way back to the surface. Hiccup nodded and patted her neck while Astrid bent to pick up the reins they had made, tying them around her neck in a loose loop. She vaulted onto the dragon’s back, reaching down to pull Hiccup up behind her. They paused for a moment, and Hiccup and Astrid exchanged one last look with the Fury. 

Then the Nadder took off.

It was easier this time; maybe the Nadder was being more careful, or maybe they were just getting used to it. Having been unconscious for most of the trip in, Astrid found herself awestruck by the things they were seeing, which were all brand new to her. There were several chambers Hiccup hadn’t woken her up for, but were all gorgeous in their own right. 

It was something of a surprise when they reached the surface; it was dark outside, and so they had no more warning than a few seconds of the sound of rushing water before they were corkscrewing up through the open air into the sky. She heard Hiccup gasp in delight behind her, and though she didn’t dare take her hands off the reins, the feeling of Hiccup’s arms around her, warm and firm and relaxed, was utterly lovely.

They broke through the cloud cover into a night sky full of stars, and Astrid felt her world shift once again.

* * *

It took her a while to realize that the Nadder wasn’t dropping them off at their boat. Instead they were flying east, toward where the sky was just beginning to lighten along the horizon. She twisted, looking over her shoulder, to see that the dragons who had lingered in the Hidden World were carrying the _Fury._ The actual Fury was not one of them, but Astrid thought, as she turned forward again, that she could see a gray blur keeping pace with the Nadder, barely visible against the clouds.

The sun was rising by the time they began to descend toward a small, familiar volcanic island. The dragons set the boat down gently in the water—though there was still a great splash, of course—and a moment later, the Nadder was alighting on the same spot on the rail where she’d landed before.

Hiccup got down first, and Astrid followed, accepting the hand he offered to help her down. 

“Thank you,” he said, looking up at the dragon. She butted her head gently against each of them, chirping affectionately, and Astrid raised one hand to scratch gently under her chin.

“Let me take that off you,” Hiccup said, reaching for the reins, but the Nadder straightened up so they were out of his reach. He chuckled. “Okay, you can keep it.”

The Nadder waited until they were both safely on the deck to take off. 

As they watched, she flew away, catching up to her companions as they entered the clouds.

Hiccup and Astrid stood in silence, hand in hand, looking up at the sky long after the dragons had vanished.

Then, slowly, they turned toward each other, and Astrid spoke.

“Now what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> I'm hoping to have this finished by the end of the year. I got a desk, which has made writing _so_ much easier, and so hopefully I'll be able to pick up my pace again.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and Happy Holidays to all celebrating!


	11. Chapter 11

When Astrid came out of the bathroom, her hair still slightly damp from the shower, Hiccup was sitting on one side of the U-shaped bench that wrapped around the table. He was wearing a thick cardigan layered over a flannel shirt, which was in turn layered over a t-shirt. This took her slightly aback—it was much more clothing than she’d seen him wear in… a while. There was a cup of coffee sitting in front of him, still steaming gently. He hadn’t touched it. Another mug was sitting across from him, seemingly meant for Astrid.

He must be preoccupied with something; apart from the espresso machine at work, she didn’t really drink coffee, and he knew that. 

She hesitated for a moment before joining him. He hadn’t answered her question from earlier, which led her to think she might know what he was fretting about. Their first order of business, once they’d had the presence of mind to think about it, had been to eat. Fortunately, they’d put out the solar panels the morning of the day they’d been taken into the Hidden World—which, as they quickly realized, was _two days_ ago—and so the power for the fridge hadn’t run out. Astrid had practically inhaled the dish Hiccup warmed up for her, managing to avoid feeling guilty for not relishing his cooking like she usually did since he was eating just as quickly. 

She’d insisted that he take the first shower since she’d been planning to linger for a while and she didn’t want the hot water to run out on him. This might have been a mistake, she thought now; although she’d certainly enjoyed letting herself take her time getting all the saltwater out of her hair, it had also given Hiccup time to brood. Now his eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at his coffee.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers as she sat down cautiously across from him. He glanced down at the coffee he’d put in front of her place and then looked back up at her again. “Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot—”

Astrid shook her head. “It’s fine.” She paused. “Do you want to talk?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I think we’d better.”

All the same, they sat in silence for a minute or so. Hiccup had moved on from brooding to actually formulating what he wanted to say; there was more focus in his face now, though he hadn’t unfurrowed his brow at all. Finally, he took a deep breath, took a sip of coffee, and set down the mug again.

“I don’t think we can tell anyone about the dragons,” he said.

“What?” He started to speak, but she cut him off. “No, Hiccup, what are you talking about? We came all this way, we can’t just—”

“Astrid, we barely got out of there with our lives. None of the dragons wanted us there, and the only reason we survived is because they allowed us to. And I won’t betray that by subjecting them to human contact that they very clearly don’t want. They have a right to decide, as a society, if and when they want to make themselves known, and how, and I’m not going to repay them letting us live with violating their wishes.”

“Some of them want human contact,” she pointed out. “The Thunderdrum, and the Nadder. They both sought us out.”

“Sure,” Hiccup said. “But most of them? Definitely not. You saw as well as I did how hostile most of them were. If it hadn’t been for the Nadder, and that—that Dusk Fury or whatever, the other dragons would have torn us apart. Or barbecued us. Or barbecued us and then—”

“But why would those two have shown themselves to us if the rest of them didn’t want anything to do with humans? And _why us?”_

“I don’t know,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated with that lack of knowledge or with her. 

“But don’t you get what this means, Hiccup? There is so much we’re wrong about, and dragons could help us understand the world so much better.” He made a frustrated half-growl in the back of his throat, but she pressed on. “I mean, right now we think the blue whale, a hundred feet long, is the largest animal that’s ever lived. But we’re _wrong_ about that, about something as basic as that. Or at least I assume we’re wrong about it. I mean, I saw a dragon down there with _two heads,_ there’s got to be—”

“There is,” Hiccup said, his voice full of forced calm, looking away. “There’s a few of them, actually.”

“And you want to keep that a secret?”

“Yes,” he said. 

“But Hiccup, people deserve—scientists— _my colleagues_ deserve to know the truth.”

“Do they?” he demanded, looking at her again. “More than the dragons deserve to live in isolation like they want to?”

She didn’t have an answer for that. Instead she asked, “You really think they can stay hidden?”

He shrugged. “They have so far.” 

“But how much longer will they be able to?” she asked. 

“I mean, there’s a herd of reindeer in New Zealand no one’s seen for fifty years.”

“Okay, but those are reindeer in New Zealand. These are _dragons.”_

“I think it’ll help that all the access points to the Hidden World seem to be tied to volcanic activity. The rocks in the opening we went through looked like they’d been formed pretty recently, and I doubt it’ll last for more than a few years.”

“Oh, so you’re a volcanologist now too?” she snapped.

Hiccup sighed, his eyebrows drawing back together. “No. But I don’t think anyone will be able to find them until they want to be found. I—I don’t know why they let us find them, or why those two did, at least, but if we don’t tell anyone, they’ll be able to stay hidden.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Astrid asked. “Hiccup, these are magnificent creatures, and you’re telling me you don’t want to study them?”

“Of course I do,” he said, looking distinctly exasperated. “Gods, Astrid, I could spend a whole lifetime—” 

“You can’t be okay with giving that up.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it or not,” he said. “It’s what they want.”

“But—”

“I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you, though,” he said. “The loss of the opportunity for knowledge. I think you just want to prove you were right.”

She could only gape at him, flabbergasted.

“You want to prove to everyone who doubted you, your mom, Heather, everyone who made fun of you, that you weren’t making it up, and that you weren’t delusional. You have proof that these—these fucking _amazing_ things are real. I know you’re right. _You_ know you’re right. And you want everyone else to know too.” He paused for breath. “And I get it. I really do. Gods, of course I get it. How could I not? I’m a scientist too.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.

He flinched as though she’d slapped him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to.”

A little of the anger faded, replaced by remorse. “So we just let them disappear again.”

“What are the alternatives? Let’s say we ‘discover’ dragons. Do you think people would leave them alone if they knew they were down there? Do you think the _military_ would leave them alone? They’d try to hunt them down or weaponize them or both, and I can’t let that happen.”

Astrid felt her heart sinking into her chest as she realized he was right. She couldn’t let that happen either. She let out a long breath, meeting Hiccup’s gaze. She could see a strange sort of defeat and resignation in his eyes, and she knew she must have the same look on her face. “Why are you trying so hard to convince me?”

He sighed. “Because I can’t tell you what to do, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. I know what I’m going to do, but I can’t make you do the same thing.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“What I said before. Make furniture. Be a handyman.”

“And what happens when—if—people do find out?”

He shrugged. “Well, I was thinking about officially becoming a benefactor of the Wilderwest Institute and helping it become a bigger presence in conservation so that if the time comes, we have some kind of say in how that gets handled. Maybe even get involved on a government level. And Justin might be coming down to help me archive all the letters and books and things from the attic.”

“You’ve been talking to Justin?” she asked, her temper flaring suddenly. He nodded. “Behind Heather’s back? Hiccup, you had no right—”

“—to offer someone a job?” he demanded. 

She let her breath out slowly, trying to control her anger. “That’ll take a lot of work.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is that going to be enough for you?”

His forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

“Making things, living in a little town by the sea, preparing for something that might never happen?”

Hiccup chuckled. “I mean, worst comes to worst, if the dragons never decide to make themselves known, I’ve put money I didn’t do anything to earn into helping preserve the environment. I’d say that’s a pretty worthwhile endeavor.”

“But what about your degree?” He didn’t say anything. “Hiccup, yes, that’s worthwhile, but there’s so much more—”

He breathed in sharply, nostrils flaring and lips tightening. “What happened to ‘you’re not wasting anything’?”

“But I don’t understand, you could be—”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, and now he was well and truly angry. “I didn’t just piss off half the medical industry, Astrid. I burned almost every bridge I had spent the better part of a decade building because no one wanted the trouble that would come with being associated with me. My fucking _mentor_ could only say it was a shame, that there was nothing I could do, when I went to ask her advice. I had two job offers for after I finished school, and after all the fallout with my dissertation, they were both withdrawn. So no, there isn’t _so much more_ I could be doing. Anything I tried to do, anything with my name attached, would be dead on liftoff. _This_ is what I can do, and it’s what I’m going to do.” 

She found herself staring at him again. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out; she wasn’t even sure she had any words to say. This trip had mattered so much more to him than she’d thought—though, to be fair, so much more than he’d let on too. Part of her wanted to point that out, to say that it wasn’t fair for him to be angry at her for not knowing something he hadn’t told her. It wasn’t just him licking his wounds like she’d thought. She felt herself getting angry for a moment too, until it dawned on her that he was perhaps less angry with her than with the situation. He wanted to fight it, which she could relate to all too well. But fighting her about it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

So Astrid took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay,” she said slowly. “You’re right, I didn’t realize that happened, and I’m sorry it did.” He gave a long sigh, settling back into his chair as the fight went out of him. “I am, really. I wish you’d been able to do what you wanted, what you’d worked for. But that said… I’m really glad you came back. I’m glad we went on this trip. And I’ve never told you this, though you know some of it, but Hiccup… that day, it was formative for me too. And not because of the Thunderdrum—it didn’t have anything to do with that. It was… it was you.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes were glittering.

“I mean, it… My whole life, I’d always felt like an outsider. It wasn’t on purpose, nobody _made_ me feel that way, but I did. Just a little bit, like I didn’t belong in town. Even before the dragon. I’ve felt that way for as long as I can remember. Sure, I did okay at school, and I had friends—well, a couple friends. But most people didn’t know me at all. Most people didn’t bother trying. I guess I didn’t either. You did, though. After just a few hours, I felt like I knew you, and you knew me. I felt like we were friends. And I felt like… like I belonged. With you. And if you’re staying, and if that’s enough for you, I’m happy for you.”

“Astrid.” He stood, walking around the table so he could sit on the bench next to her, and she scooted over to let him. He cupped her face in his hand, turning her face toward him, and kissed her, slow and sweet and careful. She kissed him back for a moment before pulling away.

“All right,” she said. “So you’re staying, and you’re going to get involved with the Wilderwest Institute.” He nodded, smiling in a way that sent warmth spreading through her chest. “And, what, make your own little historical society?”

Hiccup snorted. “I guess, maybe. Depending on the material we find.” He paused. “And what about you? Are you staying?”

Astrid tried to breathe through the knot of panic that rose unbidden into her throat. “I need to think about it,” she finally said. 

He nodded. “Okay.” 

“Hiccup, if we’re not telling anyone about the dragons, that means _anyone._ Not Heather, not Eret, and not Fishlegs.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “But Fishlegs already knows.”

“Does he know the dragons are mostly still around? Does he know we found the Hidden World?”

“But—”

“Hiccup.” He just looked at her beseechingly. “Keeping secrets is a lot harder the more people know.”

Slowly, he nodded. “All right, then. Just us.”

“And we’ll make the world ready for them.”

A slow, utterly breathtaking grin spread across his face, and he took her hand, nodding again.

“I want to see a world where dragons can fly free under the sky.”

“Gods, so do I.”

They just sat there for a long moment, looking at each other and smiling. Then, with a deep breath, Astrid spoke. “We should figure out what we’re going to do when we get back—you and I, I mean.”

His face relaxed into an easy, confident smile. “Is that something we need to talk about?” He squeezed her hand.

“I think so.”

His face fell slightly. “Oh.”

* * *

He found her a couple hours later on the foredeck.

It wasn’t that she was hiding from him; they’d just both needed time to breathe and process after the conversation earlier, and so they’d agreed to give each other a little space. It wasn’t easy on a boat less than forty feet long, but Astrid hadn’t felt like going over to the island. Instead she’d crawled up here, into the shadow of the jib sail, and curled up in a little ball, looking west.

Toward the Hidden World.

She’d heard Hiccup moving around on the deck below, pillows and blankets rustling as he reassembled their little nest. The materials had gotten thrown around by the dragons’ flight, though miraculously they hadn’t lost anything. She spared half a smile for the thought of whatever dragon had been the one on blanket-catching duty. Maybe one of the little ones, like the ones that had brought her and Hiccup water—they’d be pretty well-suited for it, she thought. Then, if the scratchings of pencil on paper were any indication, he’d taken to drawing.

All the while, she’d just sat there, staring across the island with a strange, cold, hollow feeling sitting in her chest.

She turned at the sound of his knuckles knocking against fiberglass, peeking under the jib sail to see his head poking up over the edge of the foredeck. “Can I come up?” he asked.

Astrid hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t ever been up here, she didn’t think; she’d always been the one to set up the jib sail, and when she’d been too out of it after her concussion to do so, or to rig up the new jib sheet they would have needed, they’d just made do with only the mainsail. And when she’d come up here to be alone, he’d always waited for her to join him on the main deck, rather than come to her. Now he was asking to come up, to come into her space, and that simple act of asking her consent for something even as simple as this was almost unbearably sweet.

So she nodded.

Hiccup climbed up the rungs onto the foredeck and crawled forward until he was next to her. He sat, folding his legs underneath himself. “It’s nice up here,” he said. “I see why you like it.”

“Yeah,” she said, her lips curving into a small smile. It was a little strange to have him up here, in a space that had always been hers, but in a good way. “What’ve you been doing?”

“Drawing everything I can remember from the Hidden World. All the dragons and everything. I know we’re not going to show them to anyone, but I still wanted to remember.” Astrid nodded, showing her understanding. “What about you?”

“Just thinking.”

“You okay, after… all that?”

She nodded. “You?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his hands, which were in his lap, and fiddled with a nail for a second. “I’m sorry for getting angry with you. I guess I’m just kind of insecure about that whole ‘wasting your potential’ thing.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be sorry,” she said. He looked up at her hopefully. “I guess I’m a little insecure too.”

His eyes tightened—in pain, she thought, and he glanced away for a second before meeting her eyes again. “You know I don’t think of you as any less of a scientist, right? Just because you don’t have your doctorate?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. I guess I just feel like I don’t quite measure up.”

“That’s horseshit,” he said with surprising vehemence, startling a laugh out of her. A fleeting smile passed across his face before he sobered again. “Do you want to go back to school?” he asked.

That caught her off-guard almost as much as his terse rebuttal had. There was an offer implicit in the question, though he hadn’t said it out loud. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she said after a moment, looking out over the island and the sea beyond. 

“It might be worth thinking about,” Hiccup said. “Not,” he hastened to add, “because you don’t ‘measure up’ or anything—you do, you definitely do—just, you know, if you want to.”

Astrid nodded slowly. It _was_ what she’d been planning while she was getting her undergrad, before all those plans had changed so abruptly. She wasn’t sure exactly what degree of involvement Hiccup was proposing, but she supposed that could be figured out later—if she decided to go for the idea, and for the offer.

“I think I owe you an apology too,” she said. “I meant what I said before—you’re… you’re really not wasting anything. There’s nothing wrong with a simple life if that’s what makes you happy.”

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. He was quiet for a moment before he asked, “And the dragons?”

Astrid let out a long sigh. “I still don’t like it.”

“I don’t either.”

“It’s just—do you remember, when we were kids, talking about officially discovering them together?” She turned to look at him, and he nodded again. “It’s hard to let that go.”

“I know what you mean,” Hiccup said. His lips compressed into an almost-smile, and the look in his eyes reminded Astrid of the cold, hollow feeling behind her ribs. “I wasn’t expecting this either, I thought—Astrid?”

It was like the shell inside her had broken all at once. She’d felt so brittle for so long, since long before her mother’s death, and now, without so much as a crack of warning, she felt herself crumbling. It was its own kind of mourning, she thought, coming to terms with the conclusion she and Hiccup had reached—or, rather, that he had reached and she had been rather reluctantly convinced of. He was right, of course—their world wasn’t ready for dragons, yet, and while they were going to do what they could to make it ready, that might very well not happen in their lifetimes. 

That didn’t make it any easier, though. 

Astrid couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, apart from a few errant tears when she’d gotten soap in her eyes after her concussion. She hadn’t cried when her mom died, trying to stay strong for her dad, and she hadn’t cried when she lost Heather. But now, with the feelings of those losses flooding through her all over again along with that of the dragons she hadn’t stopped thinking about for almost half her life and the reminder that she really, truly was not alone, she couldn’t help it. She crumpled in on herself, holding her middle as though she could soothe the pain that way. Hiccup wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him, and she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck as she cried. 

“I know, I know, fuck, I know,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles into her back. His voice was thick too, and she could feel him shuddering beneath her. When she looked up at him, his eyes were wet. She raised her face to his, seeking to give comfort as much as she was looking for comfort herself. He pressed his mouth to hers, and she tasted salt.

They sat there for a long time, holding each other and kissing as they cried, lips ghosting over noses and eyelids and foreheads before slowly but surely finding their way back to one another. Hiccup’s lips were fervent, but not hungry, seeking connection and understanding. She could feel the same desire inside her, to be held and comforted and _known,_ and she lost herself in the warmth of his lips and the firm support of his arms around her. She knew, somehow, that he wasn’t just crying over the dragons any more than she was, but for his mother and his grandmother and everyone else he’d lost, and the plans for the lives they’d both had to give up. They’d always had that peculiar, singular bond that no one else could or would understand, which had come from seeing a dragon together—well, many dragons now—but now there was something else between them too. Astrid felt so safe in his arms, so free to express every bit of pain and grief rolling through her. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt—far from it, it hurt like hell, and she suspected it always would, to one degree or another. But she wasn’t afraid of the pain like she had been before. And in that moment she knew, with every ounce of certainty in her, that she loved him. 

When they pulled apart, a little calmer, Hiccup pulled the end of his sleeve over one hand to wipe the tears from Astrid’s face. Astrid didn’t have sleeves, but she made do with her thumbs, feeling his lips curl beneath her own as she kissed a tear from his cheek. 

“It might have been a good idea for us to get some sleep before we had that conversation,” Hiccup said, his voice a little hoarse.

Astrid could only giggle, which brought fresh tears.

He wiped them away. “What do you say we hang around here for a few days? Just to relax a bit, and you can catch up on your data gathering.”

Astrid cringed—with all the excitement of the past few days, she’d barely spared a thought to what the trip was ostensibly for. She nodded. “That sounds good.” She paused. “It feels so strange; the entirety of our relationship has basically been on this boat. And I mean—” She hesitated before taking his hand, and he nodded, lifting her hand so that he could press a kiss to her knuckles. “But it feels like there’s still so much we don’t know about each other—I don’t even know what your favorite movie is.”

“Well,” he said, brushing her hair out of her face with his free hand, “we’ve got all the time in the world to figure that out. What do you say?”

“I think a few days here would be really nice,” she said.

“And then home?”

Astrid nodded. “Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides under rock*
> 
> (slightly muffled)
> 
> So I’m genuinely more nervous about the response to this chapter than the cliffhanger from a couple chapters back. I hope you liked it, and I do want to be clear—this was always the plan. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you’d like; I’d love to hear your thoughts!


	12. Epilogue

Hiccup wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this—although maybe, he admitted to himself, sitting in the passenger seat of Astrid’s truck, he’d just gotten lucky. 

He was taking her home, after all. Well, rather, she was taking him home.

To his home. 

Ostensibly, she was just driving him back to the house to drop him off, but he found himself hoping—and rather expecting, if he was honest—that she would stay longer than that. And glancing over at her, letting his eyes linger on the way her white tank top stretched across her chest and the hem of her shorts, which had risen not inconsiderably since they’d gotten into the truck, he felt very lucky indeed.

She pretended not to notice him checking her out, just as she’d pretended not to notice the first time he’d surreptitiously run his eyes over her all those years ago, but she was betrayed as her pink lips gave the faintest hint of a smile and a flush rose against the tanned skin of her cheeks. 

Gods, he loved her.

The thought wasn’t a surprise to him—he’d known that, on one level or another, since he was a child—but he reveled in it all the same. 

Another moment passed, and now he’d been staring at her too long for her to have reasonably not noticed. She glanced at him, her blush deepening as she kept her focus on the road. “What?”

“Nothing,” Hiccup said. “I was just thinking how nice it is to be your passenger, even after all these years.”

Astrid smirked. “You like it when I give you rides?”

“Well, now that you mention it.”

She laughed, the sound loud and carefree, and happiness surged through him.

The feeling of being lucky didn’t fade as they pulled up to the house and Astrid parked her truck beside Hiccup’s car. She turned off the ignition, which lent credence to the theory that she was staying longer than she’d let on, and they climbed down from the truck. Hiccup slung his bag over his shoulder and shut the door, noting with a rueful chuckle at himself that Astrid didn’t lock the truck. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that aspect of living in a small town. She was standing on the porch already, looking at him expectantly, and he realized with something of a jolt that this was the first time she would see the inside of the house after all the work he’d done on it.

That thought sent a thrill through him, and he trotted up the stairs after her. The key turned easily in the lock, the solid oak door swinging inward on silent hinges. With a smile he could only describe as slightly nervous, Astrid stepped inside. 

She stopped short in the foyer, looking around with her lips slightly parted and a smile spreading on her face. The dust cloths that had been covering the furniture the last time she was here were gone now, transforming the rooms on either side of the hall from amorphous, off-white, and lumpy to elegantly decorated. Not that Hiccup had anything to do with that—it was all as his grandmother had left it, just with a little dusting and tidying up. 

“Is all the furniture original to the house?” Astrid asked. He wasn’t surprised when she started wandering into the sitting room, seemingly drawn by the painting of her that hung on the wall between two windows, whether by vanity or something else he wasn’t sure. She turned to look over her shoulder at him and scowled at the amused half-smile on his face, though she was unable to keep her lips from twitching. 

“Most of it,” he said. “I think there are a few art deco pieces mixed in there, and the piano is from the forties, I believe. There’s also a more informal living room upstairs, which I have updated a little bit.”

Astrid nodded thoughtfully, looking around. “Probably more practical. This would be nice for throwing parties, though.” She stopped in front of the painting and reached a hand out to run it along the brocade fabric of the sofa. “It’s beautiful.”

Suddenly Hiccup was struck by the desire to paint her, lounging on the sofa with the light pouring in from the windows on either side and her skin and hair contrasting with the dark fabric of the sofa. The image was gorgeous in his head, stunning even, though he figured it might not be a painting they’d want to display in the sitting room. His fingers twitched as she turned her impossibly blue eyes on him again. 

Gods, she was perfect.

“Do you still have that book?” she asked.

“What?” It took him a second to rouse himself from his reverie. “Oh, uh, yeah. Up in my room.”

She sauntered across the room to him, an alluring smile playing across her lips. “Ooh, inviting me up to your room,” she said, the coyness only slightly spoiled by the way she was slipping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans. Not that he minded. He’d gotten half-hard thinking about the painting, though, and with the way she was pressing herself to him, he figured he had about half a second before—“Oh. Hello.” She glanced downward before meeting his eyes again, and her smile turned teasing. “What were you thinking about?”

“Painting you,” he said, his mouth deciding on honesty before his brain had really had a chance to think it over.

“And do you always get a boner when you think about painting me?”

Well, in for a Terror, in for a Typhoomerang. “Only when I’m thinking about painting you naked.”

Her smile widened. She leaned up to kiss him, and Hiccup found himself distinctly glad for how far the house was from the road as their embrace turned downright indecent. He hadn’t thought much about it before now, but if anyone was driving past, it was just as well they couldn’t see the way Astrid’s breasts pressed against his chest as he dropped his mouth to her throat and she made the most _divine_ sound, or the way his hand slipped down to splay over her ass, pulling her even closer, or—well, he didn’t suppose they’d be able to see that anyway, not with the way her hips were pressed against his.

Astrid pulled away after a second, though, giggling at the look on his face. “Come on,” she said, leading the way out of the sitting room. “We’ve still got the whole house to see.”

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that, is it?”

She just grinned at him and turned to head up the stairs. He followed a little more slowly, smiling to himself. He loved seeing this side of her, laughing and happy, without the care that had weighed on her for so long. He’d only seen it in flashes, really, though the flashes had gotten longer and longer as the weeks went by, only ending when something would happen to bring the walls back up. Something had changed, too, since the day they’d decided to keep quiet about the Hidden World. What had started as flashes of happiness and laughter—gods, he remembered when just a _giggle_ from her had been enough to make his day—had turned into a steadily burning blaze of light inside her, strong and fierce and breathtakingly beautiful. Hiccup was sure those struggles were still there inside her, but they seemed easier to deal with somehow, and while he might not understand it completely, he was happy to see her happy. 

She stopped at the top of the stairs, turning back to wait for him. He took her hand as he reached her, guiding her not to the living room, which was directly above the sitting room at the front of the house, but up the next flight of stairs. His room was up here, in the back corner overlooking the garden. 

“Man, this is a lot of stairs,” Astrid commented as they walked up to the third floor, matching Hiccup’s pace. She wasn’t out of breath, though.

“I’ve actually been thinking about putting in an elevator,” Hiccup said. “Just a little one—there’s a pantry by the kitchen that’s way too big for anything but a family with like, eight kids. And it should help on days when I need to use my wheelchair.” He tried to say the last part casually, but part of him was worried. Astrid had demonstrated pretty thoroughly that his disability wasn’t an issue for her, but the anxiety was still there, niggling around the edges. 

“Do you use a wheelchair a lot?” she asked, sounding more curious than anything.

He shrugged. “Not that often right now, but when I’ve put a lot of stress on my knee I’ll sometimes need to take a day or two.”

She met his eyes. “So you’ll probably need to pretty soon.”

Hiccup smiled, a little ruefully. “Yeah, probably.” He paused. “And as I get older, it’ll probably be a more common occurrence.”

Astrid only nodded. “That makes sense.” 

As they walked toward his room, Hiccup decided to let the matter rest. The door stood open, just as he’d left it, and the sunshine pouring in the window over his desk filled the room with light. His narrow bed was in one corner, but Astrid hardly spared it a glance before walking over to the bookshelf next to the desk, which housed a small collection of novels. The copy of _The Silmarillion_ he’d briefly lent her was on top of the shelf with his other first editions, sandwiched between two carved wooden bookends. Astrid ran her finger along its spine before turning back to him, a small smile on her face. 

“Did you make the bookends?” she asked.

Hiccup nodded. “I did. Shop class again.”

“I thought I recognized your handiwork.” For some reason, that made a ripple of pride rise in Hiccup’s chest. She walked back over to join him by the bed again, before looking down and seemingly realizing, raising one brow as she did, that it wasn’t all that much wider than their bunks on the _Fury_ had been. Certainly too narrow for both of them to fit comfortably.

“If nothing else, that should serve as proof that I wasn’t planning on anything happening while we were on the _Fury,”_ Hiccup said, nodding at the bed. 

Astrid giggled. “Well, you said there’s an attic, right? Where you were planning on having your room. Why don’t we head up there?”

Hiccup nodded. “All right then.” 

The stairs to the attic were behind a narrow door that looked like it should lead to some kind of linen closet. Hiccup led the way up the staircase since it was too narrow for him and Astrid to walk side-by-side. He relished Astrid’s gasp of awe as she emerged onto the wooden floor behind him and looked around at her, grinning. 

The attic was covered in a layer of dust that lay thick over the stacks of boxes and trunks that held the books and papers Hiccup’s ancestors had left behind. That wasn’t what she’d gasped at, though—that would be the stained-glass window on the back wall, through which soft, slightly rose-tinted light was coming in. It was pretty enough from the garden, but up here, where you could see it properly, it was remarkable. A circle ten feet across, it was comprised of countless tiny panes of glass arranged in the shape of a rose just like the ones in his grandmother’s garden far below. 

“It’s beautiful,” Astrid said, and grinning slightly foolishly, Hiccup nodded. She looked around. “It’s a lot cooler up here than I would have expected from an attic in the middle of summer.”

“Well, one perk of having redone the roof three years ago was that I got to put in some insulation. Helps keep the books and papers at a regular temperature too.”

Her lips curled in a smile. “And where was it you were thinking of putting the bed?”

Hiccup gestured at the wall directly across from the window, below the peak of the roof. Taking his hand, she led him across the dusty wooden floor, their feet leaving tracks in the dust behind them. The window aside, it quickly became clear why she’d wanted to come up here. She turned into his hold, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissing him. 

“What are you doing?” he asked between kisses.

“Didn’t you say,” she said, “that when you were doing renovations—“ she kissed him “—you went from top to bottom?”

“On the outside,” he said, a little surprised that she’d paid so much attention to him talking about remodeling his house. 

“Well, I was thinking,” Astrid said, mischief glimmering in her eyes, “that maybe we could do the same thing. Though maybe we could move the kitchen up the schedule a bit.”

“Specifically the kitchen table?” he asked, feeling his lips curl in a smirk.

She nodded.

“You know, I rather like that idea.”

“I thought you might.” 

She kissed him again. Her lips were warm and so impossibly soft beneath his, parting eagerly to let his tongue slip into her mouth. She pressed him back against one of the trunks that lay along the wall, her hand slipping down to squeeze at the growing bulge in his pants. Hiccup groaned, settling onto the edge of the trunk so that he wouldn’t end up on the floor when he started going weak in the knees and smiling internally that she’d remembered that. Kissing her, he slipped his hands into her hair, careless of the strands that fell out of her loose braid.

“Want me to let it down?” she breathed against his lips. He nodded, and a moment later her hair was falling about her shoulders in golden waves that he just had to run his fingers through—there would be something deeply _wrong_ with not running his fingers through her hair when it was down. Astrid slipped her hair tie onto her wrist, chuckling. “What is it about my hair that you like so much?”

“It’s just really hot,” Hiccup said, not able to think much beyond that. Astrid didn’t seem to mind, though. She just smiled and leaned back in to kiss him again, her hands drifting downward. He heard the jingling of metal as she undid his belt. It was all he could do not to jerk his hips forward against her as she unbuttoned his jeans and eased the zipper down, making him sigh with the relief of pressure. Her hand wrapped around him, pulling him free from his underwear, and then she was sinking onto her knees in front of him, settling between his legs on the dusty wooden floor.

“Astrid,” he panted as she stroked him, slowly and deliberately. “Hang on a second.”

Her hand stilled. “What is it?”

“You don’t have to—I mean, I can—”

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Later.” Then her tongue was flicking against the head of his cock, and with a gasp, he forgot about everything except the soft warmth of her mouth and the silky feeling of her hair between his fingers as he cupped the back of her head. _Gods,_ she felt good, and as she looked up at him through half-lowered eyelashes, her hand still around his shaft as her tongue swirled delicately around the rim of the head, she looked utterly gorgeous in the soft afternoon light. After a moment or two longer, her eyes slid shut in concentration. Her lips brushed softly against sensitive tissue as she took him into her mouth, making little humming noises in response to his whispered curses and words of praise as she sucked and licked and bobbed her head, driving him mad with practiced ease. She tongued at his frenulum, and he couldn’t help but jerk his hips forward into her mouth. She pulled back for just a second to catch her breath, panting as she met his eyes again, her hand still moving on his cock.

“Astrid, please—”

With another smirk, she took him in her mouth again. “Oh gods, fuck yes,” he moaned, his fingers tightening in her hair as her lips formed a tight ring around him. She took him deeper, adjusting as he hit the back of her throat, and kept fucking him with her mouth, the blowjob becoming increasingly sloppy—which Hiccup most fervently _did not mind,_ sloppy head was good head—until it was all he could do to gasp out, “Fuck, Astrid, I’m gonna come.” She had just enough time to keep from choking, pulling back so that he came in her mouth with a long, low moan of satisfaction. She swallowed, still breathing hard as she pulled back and settled onto her heels, looking up at him.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Her lips quirked in a smile. “You mentioned that.”

He reached toward her, but she was too far away for his fingers to be able to brush against more than her face, and he still didn’t quite trust his knee not to give beneath him if he tried to go to her. “Come kiss me.”

She got to her feet, stepping toward him, but her eyebrows drew together. “You don’t mind the taste?”

“Not particularly,” Hiccup said with a slightly rueful smile.

“I guess you’re probably used to it,” Astrid said, and how she could blush after what she’d just done, he didn’t know, but she managed it. 

“Well, there is that,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him so he could kiss her. “But mostly—” he kissed her “—kissing you—” another kiss “—is just worth it. And you’ve tasted yourself on me before.” 

“That’s true,” she said thoughtfully, nuzzling her head into his neck. They were both sitting down on the trunk now, Hiccup leaning against the wall with Astrid in his arms and a sense of deep contentment settling inside his chest. 

“Do you mind the taste?” he asked a moment later.

She shook her head. “Do you think I would let you come in my mouth if I did?”

Hiccup could only laugh, and after a moment Astrid started chuckling too. The light coming in through the rose window was starting to fade as the sun sank toward the sea, and Hiccup felt a hopeful spark of certainty blossom within him that this would only be the first of many such sunsets in their attic room.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur. Astrid went back to work at the Institute, taking the data she’d collected with her, and although part of Hiccup certainly wished she was spending the days with him instead, he contented himself with the fact that they’d spent the better part of a week together on Honesty Island, doing very little besides enjoying each other’s company. Well, and collecting water samples, but he’d gotten to mostly just watch as Astrid did that. Which hadn’t been too bad.

He kept himself busy by driving down to the boat and transferring the leftover food—not that there was that much of it—back to the fridge in the house. He’d figured out a few more improvements he wanted to make to the _Fury,_ and he noted them down, doing a little research on them. On the days he spent using his wheelchair, he started the process of figuring out the technical specs of the solar sails and designing them properly. It took Astrid all of about three seconds to adjust to the wheelchair when he opened the door for her upon her arrival at the house for dinner; not finding his face where it usually was, she just looked down and, smiling, bent to kiss him. 

“You know, it’s probably not necessary to lock the door when you’re at home,” she said, her voice lightly teasing as she shut said door behind her. 

“Just habit, I guess,” he said, turning to lead her through the house to the kitchen. “Some of us grew up where the main source of crime wasn’t one stir-crazy octopus trying to alleviate his boredom.”

And that was the end of that. 

He realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. Apart from an initial moment of shock, which seemed to mostly be from the fact that she hadn’t found out before, she’d taken the knowledge of his disability in stride, as it were. Even when she’d first seen the amputation site itself, she’d been more curious than anything else. Some of that probably came from living in a town with so many sailors and fishermen, he thought; there had been plenty of people at the bar they’d gone to with missing fingers, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find out that one or two of them had prosthetic legs as well. It was hardly a stretch to think that she would accept him, but all the same, he had been a little worried about it.

Which, he reflected ruefully, was probably habit on the same level that locking his front door was.

They met with Eret too, carefully avoiding any mention of the dragons, but also trying—at least in Hiccup’s case—not to be _too_ careful in case Eret picked up on it. They presented the data they’d collected, and which Astrid had compiled into charts and tables that Hiccup was somehow able to follow easily. Eret seemed pleased with what they’d found, and when Hiccup brought up the idea of extending their partnership, Eret hadn’t seemed all that surprised. To Astrid’s delight, the first thing he had agreed to was a full habitat refurbishment for Tim the Octopus, with no holds barred and her in charge. There had been a moment as they were all standing up when Eret’s inquisitive amber eyes had flicked between Hiccup and Astrid, and Hiccup had thought that he’d caught on to some of what had gone on between them on the trip—and which they had certainly _not_ included in their report. Hopefully, he was ascribing any sense he’d picked up about them not telling him something to that. He didn’t say anything, and that afternoon, Astrid went back to work, no doubt to start planning a new octopus habitat, and Hiccup drove down to the docks to figure out where exactly he was going to put his boat when he wasn’t using it.

Several days after that, he found himself sitting down to breakfast at Phlegma’s diner with both Astrid and Heather. The two women were eyeing each other with nervous, slightly awkward smiles, although seeing as it was a rare day they both had off work, they were planning on spending it together. Hiccup wasn’t invited for anything after breakfast; he was mainly here now to help break the ice a little, and he was perfectly okay with that. He knew the impact the loss of their friendship had had on both of them, and also that the best way of fixing it would just be them talking it out.

Which, knowing the two of them, would take a while. 

Phlegma herself came over while they were eating and started doting on Astrid, saying how happy she was to see her again. Astrid, seemingly realizing that Hiccup had been telling the truth about people in town caring about her more than she realized, smiled up at her. Hiccup took the opportunity to nudge Heather under the table with his foot. She’d been looking nervous, but now she gave him a questioning look. He smiled encouragingly, and after a moment she smiled back, hopefully reassured. 

By the time they parted ways after breakfast, the mood was noticeably lighter. Hiccup, who did not have the day off—he had an appointment with an old lady and her chicken coop—headed to the other side of town, leaving the girls to whatever it was they were going to do for the day. Those plans, as Astrid informed him via a quick text message, quickly evolved into pizza and beer and movies at Astrid’s place, and so it wasn’t until the next night that Hiccup found himself in Astrid’s bed again.

“So how’d it go?” he asked, catching his breath as he settled back against the blue cotton of her sheets. They were just as soft as he’d thought they would be when he first noticed them—gods, months ago now. 

Astrid smiled, a little breathless herself, hair mussed and sweat drying on her skin as she nestled into his shoulder. “It was good.”

He kissed her hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her smile widened. “Yeah, it was really good.”

“What’d you do?”

He felt her shrug. “Mostly we just drove around.” He snorted, and she turned her face up to his. “We did manage to find a nice spot up the coast a little bit where we could just sit and look out over the ocean for a while. It’s easier to talk in a car for some reason.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then she said, “You know that feeling of reconnecting with a friend after a really long time, and how wonderful it is?”

Hiccup pressed a kiss to her temple. “I can pretty reliably say that I do.”

Astrid grinned at him, and he leaned down to kiss her. When he pulled back, she looked so happy, so relaxed, that he managed to find the courage to ask what he’d been afraid to since they’d gotten back. “So where are you at as far as staying goes?” Panic flashed in her eyes, and he said hurriedly, “No pressure, I was just curious.”

She looked down again, raising one hand to trace nonsense shapes on his bare chest. “I think I want to stay,” she finally said, and he felt his heart leap beneath her hand. “For now, at least.”

“For now?”

“Well, with maybe going back to school and stuff—”

“We can figure out going back to school.”

She twisted to look up at him, a smile spreading across her face. “Yeah?”

He was unable to keep from smiling back at her. “Yeah, I think we can make it work.”

“Even if I’m living somewhere else eight, nine months out of the year?”

Hiccup shrugged. “I could always come with you. If you want.” With anyone else, he would never even think about floating this kind of commitment a month into a relationship, but this was _Astrid._ The bond between them was stronger than almost any other he’d ever known, formed by seeing a dragon, solidified further by flying on one, and cemented by the countless choices they’d made over the last nine years to go with each other and to come back and to _stay._ They’d gone to the very end of the world together, and beyond—and not only that, they’d come back. “Or just come visit a bunch. It’s not like I don’t have the money.”

Astrid giggled, pushing herself up on one elbow to kiss him. “And what about after that? Come back here, or see what kind of dragons we can find in the Amazon, or, I don’t know, sail around the world?”

“Whatever you want.”

The smile she gave him was dazzling. Happiness surged through him, deep in his bones and strengthened rather than diminished by everything they’d gone through to get here. “I want you.”

He slipped his hand into her hair, pulling her down to kiss her. Pulling back, she took his hand and kissed the palm of his hand. “And you have me,” he said. “Always.”

* * *

**Nine Years Later**

“Daddy!”

With quick movements, Hiccup switched off the table saw and stacked the pieces of the board he’d been cutting off to one side. He turned toward the door of his workshop, raising his protective goggles and frowning slightly at the little girl who was standing in the doorway.

“Zephyr, I thought I told you to knock before coming into my workshop.”

“I did,” she insisted. “You just didn’t hear.”

Well, the table saw was pretty loud. It was perfectly likely he hadn’t heard her knocking until she’d shouted for his attention, especially with his earplugs in. He knelt down, opening his arms, and she rushed across the floor to him. Standing with her on one hip, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then used his free, gloved hand to pull out his earplugs. “You did good staying in the doorway, though,” he said. “What do you need?”

“Mom just called.”

“Did she?” he asked, amused. It hadn’t escaped his notice that since Zephyr’s fifth birthday a few months before, Astrid had turned from “mama” or “mommy” to just plain “mom,” while he was still very much “daddy.” He didn’t mind, although he knew it was at least in large part an attempt to butter him up. She needn’t have tried—he was hopelessly wrapped around her finger, and would likely stay that way regardless of what she called him. 

Zephyr nodded, her bangs falling into her face, and as she pushed them aside with a small hand, Hiccup made a mental note for at least the third time that week that they really needed to get her a trim. “She says the interns are almost done setting up, and if we want to get there before the caterers we should leave soon.”

“Well, then I guess we’d better get going.” He glanced down at his stained t-shirt and heavy-duty work pants. “I should probably change clothes. Is that what you’re going to wear?”

“Uh-huh.” Hiccup gave her a once-over. There were no visible stains on her dress, which was light blue and printed with flowers. 

“Looks nice.” She dimpled at him. “Can you put on shoes and socks by yourself?” 

With an aggrieved sigh, Zephyr rolled her eyes. “Yes, Daddy.” 

Hiccup chuckled, kissing her hair again, and carried her out of the workshop. Shutting the door, he heard the kitchen door open and turned to see Heather standing there, an anxious look on her face. She was wearing a dark gray dress that hung to her knees, clinging slightly to the rounded bump of her stomach. “Sorry,” she said. “I got talking to Astrid and she slipped out when my back was turned.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hiccup said, walking past her into the kitchen. “I just appreciate you two watching her so I could get some work done.” He set Zephyr down on the tile floor, and she went running out to go to her room for shoes and socks, narrowly avoiding running into Justin in the hallway. “I’m going to go change,” Hiccup said as Justin came into the kitchen. “When she comes back downstairs, can you do something with her hair so it’s not falling in her face all night?”

“Absolutely,” Justin said. Hiccup’s one-time archivist, he was now the head librarian at the town’s public library and had been since the previous librarian’s retirement. “Braid crown okay?”

“That’s perfect, thanks.” He took the same route Zephyr had out of the kitchen, though at a rather slower pace, climbing the stairs past the second floor and up to the third. They’d moved the living room that had been on the second floor up here some years ago, using its previous room on the second floor as a library for all the materials Hiccup and Justin had sorted through in the attic. The other three bedrooms on the second floor housed that year’s crop of interns for the Wilderwest Institute—they all had to share a bathroom, but the fact that they were also living there rent-free seemed to make up for that. The third floor was the family’s private quarters, with the living room in what had previously been Hiccup’s grandmother’s room since it was the biggest. Zephyr was in Hiccup’s old room. There were three other bedrooms on the floor; one of them, holding the furniture from his grandma’s room, functioned as a guest room, and another was Hiccup’s office. The year before, Astrid had finally convinced him to install a bathroom as an en-suite to their attic room, meaning that Zephyr functionally had her own bathroom on the third floor.

 _Gods, she’s spoiled,_ he thought with a rueful chuckle.

His clothes for the evening were laid out on the bed where he’d put them earlier. Just a plain, dark green sweater over a white shirt and black pants, they were still a substantial step up from what he’d been wearing before. He sat on the bed to lace up his slightly dressier black boots, shooting an affectionate glance at the carved wooden headboard. He’d made it for Astrid as a wedding gift while she was away at grad school; when she’d come back, she’d absolutely fawned over it, and since then, the bed had been host to many of their happiest memories both as a couple and as parents. Though the nude painting he’d done of her had hung on their bedroom wall for several years, it had been moved downstairs to Hiccup’s office at her request once she’d felt Zephyr was old enough to be curious about it. The office had a locked door, and was thus less prone to being burst in on by an energetic, inquisitive five-year-old; it also had the perk of not being where Zephyr spent the night whenever she had a nightmare. Which wasn’t often, and in recent weeks he’d even heard her wake up and move around a little before taking herself back to bed on nights when she might have otherwise crawled in between him and Astrid. He wasn’t surprised at her independence—she’d always tried to do things for herself, often long before it was advisable for her to do so—but the progress in self-soothing was still nice to see. 

Hiccup had spent so long working on the painting and, later, looking at it that he practically had it memorized. It had come out even more beautifully than he’d expected, her creamy skin practically glowing in stunning contrast to the velvety dark fabric of the loveseat behind her, a light flush to her cheeks and an easy, languid smile on her face as one hand pushed her hair back. Her breasts were bare, her legs together but not concealing much, and her posture as she lounged on the loveseat was utterly and blissfully relaxed. The overwhelming impression was of someone who’d just been fucked, and fucked well—which, to be fair, wasn’t all that inaccurate. The painting had kept Hiccup company between visits while she’d been away at school. Remembering the numerous relationships he’d watched fall apart while he was in grad school, not to mention a few of his own relationships, he’d tried to give her the space she needed. It had been a challenging few years, but they’d made it. 

And now they were happier than Hiccup could have ever imagined. 

Heather, Justin, and Zephyr were waiting by the front door when Hiccup came downstairs. Zephyr’s bangs had been pulled back from her face and woven into a braid that wound around her head, and in addition to her bright pink sneakers, she’d put on a denim jacket. “Do you two want to ride with us or take your car?” Hiccup asked.

Heather and Justin exchanged a look. “Probably smarter to go with you,” Heather said. “I’m sure parking is going to be a nightmare.”

Hiccup nodded, pulling his keys from his pocket. “Sounds good.”

Justin got in the passenger’s seat, and Heather got into the backseat with Zephyr, checking to make sure she’d done up all the buckles on her car seat correctly. As they turned onto the coastal road, heading north, Zephyr started in again on the grievance she’d most recently gotten fixated on—namely, the trip Hiccup and Astrid were taking next month to a tiny island in the northern reaches of the Atlantic. “Why can’t I go?” she whined, unabashedly using Heather and Justin’s presence as leverage to try to sway Hiccup.

 _Because the only way your mother agreed to bend her rule of not telling anyone about the dragons we saw was to do it face-to-face, and you’re not in on that secret._ “It’s like a second honeymoon for us,” Hiccup said. “We’d just like to be by ourselves.” This was true enough; Hiccup was excited to introduce Astrid to Fishlegs, with whom he’d kept in touch over the years, and to show her the Book of Dragons. Plus visiting the famous Blue Lagoon while they were in Reykjavik just wouldn’t be quite the same with a five-year-old in tow. “Besides, it’s just for a couple of weeks, and you’ll be staying with your grandpa, remember? I’m sure he’ll take you out to see the whales.”

Zephyr scoffed, not taking the bait. “Why do you need a second honeymoon?” she demanded. “Your first one wasn’t even that long ago.”

“It was before you were born,” Hiccup pointed out. Though not _that_ long before. Their honeymoon, which had in reality taken up a good part of the year Astrid took off between her master’s degree and her PhD, had been sailing around the world together. Several weeks after a stop in the Philippines, she’d realized somewhere around New Zealand that she’d missed her period, and a drug store pregnancy test had confirmed she was pregnant. Out of concern for her safety—and quite reasonable concern, he’d thought and still thought—Hiccup had tried to convince her to return home, but she’d flatly refused. After a doctor in Mumbai had confirmed that the pregnancy wasn’t a high-risk one and that Astrid and the baby should be fine as long as they kept an eye on things, Hiccup had relented. Being pregnant had rather spoiled her plans to drink her way around the Mediterranean, but given the tradeoff, she hadn’t been too upset about it. Hiccup hadn’t been either; although it was several years earlier than either of them had planned, and despite his worry, he’d been utterly thrilled. By the time they’d gotten home, Astrid was starting to show. Heather had met them at the docks, trying and failing to hold back her laughter as she greeted them with a resounding “What the fuck?!” before pulling them both into tight hugs. 

Now she snorted, and when Hiccup met her gaze in the rearview mirror, she was smirking.

“What’s so funny?” Zephyr asked. 

“Nothing,” Heather said, biting back her smile. 

With a sigh, Hiccup looked back to the road. “Why don’t you tell Aunt Heather about what you’ve been reading lately?”

This topic exhausted the rest of the drive to the Institute. As they turned into the parking lot, the reason for the evening’s festivities came into view. It was a new wing for the Institute that almost doubled its square footage, and which had been in the works longer than Zephyr had been. A fundraising campaign, successful mainly because of people’s desire for the Institute to become a tourist attraction and draw more people and thus more money into town, had been matched by a sizable donation from Hiccup himself. The interior looked much more like a traditional aquarium than the rest of the Institute, but functionally its main purpose was still research and rehabilitation. The new space—and the additional staff whose salaries Hiccup’s sponsorship was paying—allowed them to take more animals in, and the layout, which was more oriented toward guest observation than the original building had been, would hopefully bring people in to see those animals. And since most creatures who came to the Wilderwest Institute were released once they were ready to fend for themselves, there was always something new to see. Tonight was its grand opening, and the words _Newberg Wing_ —named for the town that had funded it—were spelled out in metal letters a foot high set into the wall, gleaming in the waning light of the sunset. 

Miraculously, the spot next to Astrid’s car was still open. Hiccup pulled into it, and everyone quickly disembarked. “I’ll just see if they still need any help setting up,” Heather said, tugging Justin along with her. Zephyr shouted that she was going to go visit Gregory—the Institute’s current resident octopus, and Tim’s successor, with whom she was completely obsessed—and darted ahead of Hiccup into the Institute’s old building. 

With a sigh, Hiccup followed, albeit more sedately. He found Eret standing in front of the big fish tank inside, looking slightly bewildered. “You just missed the tiny flying ginger,” he said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder.

Hiccup snorted. “Yeah, she’s visiting Gregory.”

Eret chuckled. “How’s my favorite patron?”

“I’m your only patron,” Hiccup said, drawing his eyebrows together. “Or has that changed? Because if so, congratulations.”

Eret shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, early days yet, but we’re in talks with a whale-watching company in town. Since we can’t really have the whales here.”

“Could you if you had a big enough tank?” Hiccup asked. “Just short-term, of course. Only for whale rehab.”

Eret looked pensive. “Maybe. Let’s let the paint dry on the new wing, though, shall we?”

Hiccup smiled. “That’s fair. You excited for tonight, Director Hunter?”

Eret’s chest swelled. “Very much so. I’ve got a whole speech written out—” He patted his chest pocket. His brow furrowed, and he checked both pants pockets. “Must’ve left it in my jacket. I’ll see you there, shall I?”

Laughing, Hiccup nodded, and Eret turned to go down the hall to his office. “Where’s my wife?” Hiccup asked Eret’s retreating back.

“In her office,” Eret called over his shoulder.

Astrid’s office was Eret’s old office, since when Eret advanced to the director job, Astrid had taken his job. This had been carefully orchestrated, with the previous director of the Institute waiting for Astrid to finish her PhD and become Doctor Hofferson before he retired. (Hiccup had had absolutely nothing to do with this, and there was an entire mountain of paperwork to prove it—rather, Eret’s strong commendation of Astrid, coupled with the respect the previous director had for her, had made sure there was a job waiting for her when she finished school.) He took a different hallway than Eret had, letting his feet carry him along the familiar path. 

Astrid Hofferson, the love and light of his life, was sitting at her desk, shoulders hunched as she typed at her keyboard. She let out an annoyed sigh and hit the backspace key several times. Her frown intensified as she kept typing.

Hiccup tapped on the door with his knuckles. “Evening, milady,” he said, trying not to smile at the thought of whatever poor soul was going to be getting that email.

Astrid’s eyes leapt from the screen to his face, and her frown vanished, replaced by a dazzling smile. “Babe!” She jumped to her feet and came to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. She’d changed into her outfit for the party already, a tight black jumpsuit that emphasized the length of her legs and highlighted just how fit she was from the workout habit she’d developed as a coping mechanism in grad school. 

“You look amazing,” Hiccup said with complete honesty. 

“Thanks,” Astrid said, resting her hands against his chest with his arms circling her waist. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Excited for tonight?”

“Very much so.” He would hope so—she’d personally had a hand in designing most of the habitats for the new building.

He kissed her again, feeling her smile beneath his lips, and somewhat reluctantly let go of her waist. “We’d better get going,” he said. “Zephyr’s visiting Gregory, and I’m worried she might start rubbing off on him. We wouldn’t want another escape artist.”

He was almost to the door when Astrid spoke. “Hey, babe?”

Her tone was strange, an odd mix of hopeful, tentative, and deeply, deeply anxious. He’d only heard it from her on very rare occasions, and now it stopped him in his tracks.

The first time he’d heard that tone, they’d been in the Philippines, curled up together in the berth that had replaced the table belowdecks. “Hey, babe?” she’d said.

He’d been half-asleep, warm and comfortable, but her voice had startled him awake. “Yeah?”

“I think I might be bi.”

The second time, they’d been anchored in Wellington, and she’d been walking out of the bathroom on the _Fury,_ holding something in her hand.

Hiccup turned back to face her, jaw dropped and eyes opened wide. She’d gone back to her desk and was pulling open one of the drawers. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Then he started, “Are you—”

A grin split her face, and she nodded. Before he knew it, he’d rushed across the room and was kissing her again, unable to keep from smiling and feeling her smile too.

“That’s such good news,” he said as he pulled back, one hand instinctively splaying over her belly where new life was growing, though it was far, far too early for him to feel anything. He kissed her again. “How long?”

“It’s hard to say, but not more than a few weeks,” she said. There was such _joy_ in her eyes, but there was worry too. Hiccup nodded to show his understanding as she said, “We should probably wait to tell anyone.”

“Heather’s going to be so pleased, though.”

Nodding, Astrid laughed. “We always used to talk about doing that when we were kids. And she’s not due for another three months, so they’ll even be in the same grade.”

“Who will be in the same grade?”

Hiccup and Astrid both jumped. They turned to the doorway, where Zephyr was standing, head cocked as she looked at them. He looked at Astrid, panicked, only to see the same look in her eyes.

“Zephyr!” she said, crossing the room and bending down to hug Zephyr. “You look so cute. Who did your hair?”

“Uncle Justin,” Zephyr said, looking between Astrid and Hiccup with a bewildered look on her face. “What’s going on?”

“We’re not ready to tell anyone yet,” Hiccup said, and Zephyr’s brows drew further together. “When we are, you’ll be the first to know, okay? But for right now it’s a secret.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, still confused.

“We need you to help us keep it a secret, okay?” Astrid said. “Don’t say anything to anyone at the party.”

Zephyr considered for a moment. Hiccup could see she liked being in on whatever the secret was, or at least more in on it than anyone else was. After a long moment, she nodded. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you, Zephyr,” Astrid said, smoothing her hand over Zephyr’s braid. She straightened up and looked at Hiccup. “The food’s probably here. Do you want to head over?”

Hiccup looked between his wife and his daughter, feeling a smile spread over his face as joy burned deep in his chest. Utterly content, and absolutely thrilled for whatever the future would bring, he nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

* * *

The first stop Hiccup and Astrid had made on their honeymoon circumnavigating the globe was a small volcanic island a couple of good days’ sailing away from town. They’d stayed there for a day or two and then set off, heading northwest. Another week brought them to a part of the ocean that they’d known not so long before.

Now, though, it was very different.

Where there had been a ring of broken stone, water pouring in and throwing a great mist into the air for sunbeams to make rainbows in, now there was only water, the waves flowing unbroken as far as the eye could see. They spent a day sailing around, scanning the horizon for that telltale plume of mist. Eventually, though, they were forced to admit that they were in the right place. This was where the opening had been. 

Now it was gone. 

The gate to the Hidden World had vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, didn't quite make the end-of-the-year goal, but there you have it.
> 
> This fic has changed... a lot since its inception. I'd originally intended for it to be somewhat lighter in tone than my previous chaptered fic, In the City of Bridges, with a lot more bickering and prickliness in the Hiccstrid dynamic and an odd sort of first contact thing. Some of that is still there, but it's much different than it was when I started it ten months ago. How did it turn into a distinctly angsty fic about working through trauma, dealing with isolation and the feeling you've been ostracized, and losing parents one way or another?
> 
> *looks at 2020*
> 
> You know, I couldn't tell you.
> 
> (Just for the record, I'm good.)
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this fic; reading your comments has meant so much this year, and I appreciate you reading this more than I can say. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I also hope that this year hasn't been too difficult for you.
> 
> Kind of hard to believe, but it's still a new year. Let's make the best of it.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Please leave a comment if you'd like to.


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